Mind Games
by elliemars
Summary: Seifer and Zell have managed to stay pretty well away from each other in the years since the war. When unfortunate circumstances (read: a scheming heiress and Quistis' meddlesome nature) shove them together again, more things flare than just tempers. Seifer/Zell and some other minor side pairings.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Welcome to Mind Games. I've been posting this fic over at the seiferzell community at LJ (and less regularly on aff) for the last five years or so. I tried and failed to archive my FFVIII fics on my personal LJ and I've given up on aff. So I'll be gradually getting them all up on here. That's all, enjoy. :)

* * *

The boisterous sounds of the party he had just escaped from were fading in Seifer's ears as he wandered unsteadily down the corridor away from the Quad, ambling along in the swaying, faltering manner of one who is sauced out of their mind - which, at that moment, Seifer was. He had stayed at the graduation banquet just long enough to get shitfaced, totter across the stage, and make a hasty exit out the back door before Squall or any of his harebrained lackeys could figure out he was MIA. Commander Crabass had been particularly crotchety concerning the matter of Seifer's attending the banquet; no one wanted to see him there, of course, but it was tradition for second year SeeDs to attend the commencement of the new class, and Seifer, therefore, had done so for as long as was obligatory, which, in his own opinion, was far longer than his presence was needed. As it was, the continual whispers and stares that accompanied him everywhere he went within the Garden - which were, of course, not a new occurrence, but no less an annoying one - were made no more bearable by the stiff drink he had managed to acquisition within moments of entering the banquet hall, and he had made his flight from the party not even two hours after it began, which was quite long enough a time for him to get adequately tanked.

He reeled around a corner and, looking blearily around at the grey-washed walls of the dormitories, ventured off into the nearest corridor, his sense of direction slightly impaired by the way the floor seemed to be spinning out from underneath him. He couldn't seem to remember where it was he wanted to go, although finding a bed to collapse in seemed like a splendid idea, given that anything involving any more movement than it took to clutch his head in pain and curl up into the fetal position was going to be out of the question in not too long. Seifer had never been one to tolerate hard liquor well, a weakness that he was fairly able to keep under wraps for the most part, as he rarely drank at all. It wasn't the whispering, or the sneers, or the general dislike that the majority of the population of the Garden seemed to harbour for him that made him want to get pissed out of his gourd this particular night; those things were all familiar after having endured them for nigh on three years now, and as irksome as having to deal with all that on a daily basis was for Seifer, it wasn't anything that troubled him overmuch. No, this particular bout of dipsomania was brought on by a certain stubborn headmaster and his inability to treat Seifer like a normal SeeD, which is really all the blonde wanted at this point; instead, he, Squall, spent most of his time (Seifer was convinced) creating stupid, pointless rules and requirements that applied to Seifer only and whose sole purpose was to irritate the fuck out of him. Therefore, Seifer considered it his duty to get absolutely blotto at the most important event of the year just because he knew how much it would piss everyone's beloved commander off. Petty? Seifer didn't know the meaning of the word.

He tumbled into a closed door, losing his train of thought. A bed, that's right; he was looking for a bed. Not necessarily his own bed - any flat, relatively comfortable surface would do provided he not be disturbed for the next twelve hours or so until his hangover became bearable. He was beginning to feel it now; the pressure that squeezed like a fist around his eyes as he attempted to focus on a stationary object (which happened to be a potted plant, not that Seifer could distinguish anything more than its relative shape and colour through the cloud of drunkenness he was wandering around in,) the way his stomach heaved as though trying to buck itself right out of his body with each lurching step he took forward. He prayed in his mind that anyone who wasn't at the banquet would be tucked safely in their beds by now; he couldn't bear thinking what would become of his reputation if he were seen hobbling drunkenly around the hallways like a loon. Although, in truth, there wasn't much damage that could conceivably be done - he was already held in the lowest regard by 99.9% of the Garden's student population, and the remainder of them - Squall and the group of idiots he called friends - only managed to put up with him to prove to themselves that they weren't so petty as to cast off someone they used to call family just because he'd made one little mistake and tried to help a schizophrenic megalomaniac of a sorceress take over the world. And after all that he'd been through, Seifer reasoned to himself, didn't he deserve the occasional bout of total inebriation?

He fell backwards against the door he had moments ago crashed into, slumping down to the floor. He slammed his fist against the wall as a spark of anger flared inside him momentarily. What the fuck was even the point of staying here? He had returned to Garden a few months after the end of the war simply because he had had nowhere else to go, and Squall had accepted him back under Cid's creed that no one seeking education be turned away, but no one pretended that he belonged here. He had studied and kept his head down, keeping the bullying to a minimum mainly because no one paid him any attention anymore and trying to rile anybody up usually only ended up with Squall threatening to chuck him out if he caused any trouble. Chicken-wuss was the only target worth aiming at lately - he could always be counted on to want to start something - but his feathers were so easy to ruffle that it was hardly a challenge.

A wave of nausea suddenly hit Seifer like a sledgehammer in the gut, and he pulled himself to his feet as he struggled not to blow chunks right there in the hallway. That fifth - was it five or six? - martini had probably not been the best idea. Not after those first couple gin and tonics, at least. Seifer couldn't even remember how much liquor he'd downed before deciding to bunk it out of that lame-ass party, but he had a feeling if he didn't find somewhere to get horizontal soon, it was all going to be coming back to revisit him. He turned to the door behind him and mashed buttons on the keypad, but he couldn't seem to correctly input his code, although he knew it by heart even when trashed - it was the same as Quistis' birthday; he'd chosen it because he knew no one would ever suspect him of using a friend's birthday as his passcode and because it was the only one he could ever remember, mostly due to the fact that the instructor advertised it extensively to him for weeks preceding the date every year as though she thought he cared. Unless her aim was merely to make sure he remembered it, in which case she had quite succeeded. His fingers fumbled to jab at the correct numbers, but the small blinking light on the keypad continued to wink red at him, denying him access to his room. Frustrated, he pounded a fist against the door - and, to his complete surprise, it suddenly and inexplicably slid open, sending Seifer, now without a surface to support himself against, careening back to the floor.

"Who the fuck is banging around out 'ere?" A person appeared in the doorway, rubbing their eyes sleepily. That didn't seem quite right. Seifer didn't have a roommate - he was a SeeD, after all, and therefore had been in a single dorm for quite some time, not that he'd had a roommate before then when he was just a cadet, either; other students had always been hard put to tolerate him, and as a result he had been alone in a double dorm before he graduated, and even before the war, back when he was still a student. He peered up at the person standing before him, staring down at him, as if trying to figure out why in the hell he was laying sprawled across the hallway outside their room.

Well, speak of the devil. "Dincht," Seifer mumbled grumpily, trying to haul himself swiftly and gracefully to his feet so that he could beat a quick retreat before Zell realized he was sloshed out of his mind. He pushed himself up, tripping on the hem of the grey trenchcoat he wore faithfully at all times, and went hurtling forward through the doorway - or, he would have if Zell hadn't been standing in the line of fire and broken his fall. _Oh, way to not be obviously drunk, Seifer_, he thought blearily to himself as he lay on top of the other boy, who was clearly too stunned and confused to make haste in shoving him away - _oops, spoke too soon,_ he thought as Zell pushed him roughly off, leaping away from the gunblader in shock. Seifer merely rolled over lethargically, staring up at the ceiling and making no effort to move further. Zell gaped down at him, half-asleep and half pissed as hell, from what the other boy could make out of his face in the dark.

"Fuck are you doin' here, Almasy?" He growled, nudging the prone boy on the floor with his bare foot. Seifer grunted.

"Was just leaving, as it so happens," He slurred, but still didn't stir. Zell waited for a few moments, and then kicked him again, although with a good deal more force than before.

"You drunk, Seifer?"

Seifer sat up quickly, feeling rather offended by the accusation. "Never been drunk a day in my life, chicken-wuss," He declared loudly, before a swell of queasiness threatened to suddenly overthrow him, and he leapt to his feet, dashing for the nearest door inside Zell's dorm, which, luckily, happened to be the loo. He heard Zell's groan of displeasure as he lost his lunch - which had been that of the liquid sort anyway - but he couldn't bring himself to care much if he annoyed the martial artist; it wasn't as if they were friends or anything. In fact, considering how much Zell had irritated the fuck out of him for years, ralphing all over his (scrupulously neat and clean, Seifer noticed) bathroom seemed like a very tame revenge. Fortunately for the younger SeeD, however, he was able to make it to the toilet, where he collapsed on the tiled floor, clutching the porcelain bowl and fighting the urge to black out.

"For fuck's sake," Zell griped under his breath, standing in the doorway to the bathroom and mercilessly flipping the light on. Seifer shouted out loudly, feebly raising one arm to shield his eyes from the brightness.

"The fuck did you do that for, arsehole?!"

"You wanna peel y'self off my toilet and piss off out of here?" Zell asked coldly, folding his arms over his chest as he glared down at the drunken blonde. He stretched out a leg and prodded his unwelcome guest with a toe; Seifer, in response, merely released his hold on the toilet and slumped down to the floor. Zell went to prod him again, but thought better of it; he didn't particularly feel like spending the morning cleaning up Seifer's vomit if he upchucked all over the place. He grabbed the elder boy by the sleeve of his coat and dragged him a few feet across the floor before giving up.

"Damnit, Almasy, I was sleeping. Would you get the fuck out of my dorm?" He snarled, sweeping sleep-mussed hair out of his eyes as he squinted down at the drunkard on the floor.

"No, I don't think I shall, thanks," Seifer muttered in reply, groaning quietly as he clutched his head, which was beginning to throb terribly. Truthfully, he didn't feel as though he could move even if he wanted to, although he wasn't going to admit that to Zell of all people. He opted, instead, for his usual method of runabout - being an arsehole. "Now shut that fucking light off before I slice your head off."

"Get the hell out of here, Almasy!" Zell yelled. Christ, the chicken was a cranky boy when he was woken early, Seifer thought to himself with a little smirk. He cracked open one eye to glare up at the smaller boy, trying to instill death in his stare, but as he was still too impaired to even be sure what he was focusing on was indeed Zell, he couldn't be entirely certain his implied threat went through. He decided on adding a verbal acknowledgment to his unspoken warning.

"You yell like that again, chicken-wuss, and I'll carve you a new goddamn mouth to yell with. Turn off that light and go back to sleep and I'll be gone in the fucking morning."

"So, what, I'm s'posed to let you fucking sleep on the bathroom floor?"

"If you would be so kind."

Zell was speechless, staring, mouth agape, at Seifer, who now seemed to be comatose on the cold bathroom floor. Hesitantly, the martial artist nudged him again with his foot. No response. Seifer seemed to be well and truly zonked out, his mouth hanging open as he snored softly; he looked more like a boy than the twenty-two year old, arrogant, cold-hearted mercenary he was supposed to be. Zell sighed, grumbling noncommittally to himself under his breath as he flipped the lights off and shut the bathroom door, leaving Seifer to snooze on the tile inside. He didn't have it in him to be angry at someone who wasn't even conscious enough to realize it, and he was hardly awake enough to pursue an argument with his obviously sauced enemy. With another heavy sigh, he stumbled his way through the dark room back to his bed in the corner, throwing himself onto the pile of soft, comfy blankets he'd been loathe to abandon when Seifer had come pounding on his door.

_I hope he wakes up with a damn migraine in the morning_, Zell thought vindictively to himself as he snuggled down into the bed, trying to fall back to sleep and not to think about the poor sot laying in his bathroom, _It would serve the drunk bastard right._

* * *

Seifer awoke with a pounding in his ears. Upon scrutiny, it seemed to be the sound of his brain trying to escape his skull, and he clutched his head in pain. He was hot, his back and shoulders were aching almost as much as the throbbing in his head, and his mouth seemed to be filled with cotton. He realized quite suddenly that he had no idea where he was, and he sat up, instantly regretting the hurried movement as every organ in his body seemed to lurch upward. He groaned, focusing on what he did know, which was upsettingly little. He was uncomfortable in every sense of the word, and that situation had to be remedied before any further thinking could be done.

He rose slowly to his feet and felt around in the darkness, groping along what seemed to be a countertop and then a wall until he found a light switch. He flipped it on, ignoring the burst of pain that erupted behind his eyes as if a small sun had suddenly alighted in the room rather than a fairly-dim seventy watt bulb. He was in a bathroom. It wasn't his own; it was noticeably larger in size and a great deal tidier. Sleeping on the floor explained why his back felt like a grendel had stomped on it, and being drunk - or rather, he was just heading into what he could already predict was going to be a monster hangover - explained why he felt like five kinds of shit. And also, he supposed, why he had been sleeping on someone's bathroom floor. He slid open the door and stumbled out into the dark bedroom beyond, his head still spinning with the dregs of his drunkenness.

The room was dim, only the faintest glow of the coming sunrise peeking over the horizon and filtering through the gauzy curtains on the window. The darkness was a welcome relief to the pulsing pain behind his eyes, and he took a few pitchy steps forward, shrugging off the trenchcoat he'd only just realized he was still wearing and giving a small shiver as the cool air of the room hit his damp skin. He rubbed the back of his aching neck, peering around in order to try and figure out whose room he was in. Although he couldn't distinguish much through the murkiness, it didn't seem to be anyone's that he knew - not that he'd been in a great many other students' dorm rooms, being enormously disliked by the rest of the population as he was.

Seifer moved slowly across the room, reaching out his hands like a blind man to feel for any obstacles, and was a little proud of himself that he didn't trip over anything, before realizing that that was because there was nothing on the floor for him to trip over. His knees hit something soft and bouncy and his legs buckled as he went tumbling gracelessly to the floor. _A bed_, he thought to himself matter-of-factly, _What a coincidence, that's exactly what I was looking for…_

* * *

The sudden dip of the mattress as a weight settled onto the bed stirred Zell from the dream he'd been deeply engulfed in; however, it wasn't until an arm snaked itself around his waist that he fully grasped the fact that there was someone else beside him in the bed. Immediately wide awake, he leapt up, staring down in horror as he realized just who had crawled into bed with him, and shook Seifer by the shoulder until the older boy began to show signs of consciousness.

"Seifer! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Seifer looked blearily up at him. "Dincht? Fuck're you doing 'ere?"

"I _was_ sleeping," Zell replied angrily, shoving the gunblader to the edge of the bed. "This is _my bed_, after all!"

"Hum?" Seifer made a noise of comprehension in the back of his throat, but it was clear to Zell that he wasn't grasping anything the younger blonde was saying. Zell gritted his teeth in frustration as he watched his unwanted bedmate hiding his head under a pillow.

"I don't care how drunk you are, you're not sleeping in my bed," He snarled as Seifer, who didn't appear to be listening to a word he was saying, wriggled his way back toward the center of the mattress. Zell pushed him away again. "Get the hell out of here, arsehole-"

"Dincht," Seifer interrupted suddenly, his face screwed up in discomfort as he clasped the pillow around his head. "If you never do me another favor in your life, chicken-wuss, shut up right the fuck now. I think I'm going to be sick."

"I swear to Hyne, Seifer, if you puke in my bed-!"

"If you shut your yap and let me lay here peacefully, that won't be a risk."

Zell could only stare at the older boy - who had, apparently, promptly fallen asleep after this declaration - in complete disbelief that bordered on denial that Seifer, his lifelong adversary, had just crawled into his bed and was proceeding to nestle right up to him. Well, well… who'd have thought Seifer was a cuddler? If he hadn't been so ticked off at the moment, Zell would have found it pretty hilarious. As it was, though, he was only growing more and more irritated with the gunblader, who had not only stolen his pillow but had now commandeered the comforter as well and was sprawled out in the center of the bed, forcing Zell into the corner. His expression was crumpled and pained, as though he was having an unpleasant dream - _And I damn well hope he is!_ Zell thought spitefully to himself - but, despite the enmity he felt toward Seifer, Zell just couldn't bring himself to kick the slumbering boy out of bed.

"I'm too damn nice for my own good," He sighed as he fought for a corner of the blanket, grumbling to himself and settling uneasily down into the bed, but he was no longer the least bit drowsy. How was he supposed to sleep with that blasted drunkard right behind him, constantly tossing and turning and breathing down his neck, his body radiating heat…

Zell clambered out of the bed, accidentally (or perhaps not) jostling the other boy - not that Seifer would have noticed; he was clearly down for the count - in his haste to escape. What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden? Just because it had been months… well, okay, it was closer to a year now… since he'd had a bedmate didn't mean he should be freaking out at the first press of a warm body against his, especially since that body happened to belong to the one person on the planet that he would never, under any circumstances, consider sleeping with, even if he were at all interested in sleeping with guys. He retreated to the bathroom, tripping over Seifer's abandoned coat on the way and kicking the item aside frustratedly.

He flipped the light and turned on the tap to splash cold water over his face. "Too goddamn nice," He repeated to no one, patting his face dry. Of course, he knew what it was like to wake up somewhere unfamiliar, hungover, with no recollection of how he got there, and feeling like absolute shite, and he wouldn't have wished that even on his worst enemy - particularly since he knew just where Seifer had been and what he had been up to earlier that night; the only place Zell had ever known the older boy to get noticeably drunk was at a Garden event, and as the big graduation banquet had been last night, he could put two and two together. Squall was going to give Seifer hell when he found out what he'd done - the headmaster always did - and perhaps Zell felt sorry for his rival. He did, after all, take a lot of crap from the other residents of the school (although he brought some of it upon himself, being an arsehole as he was.)

That, however, didn't mean Zell couldn't be a prick to him once he awoke - and he fully planned to. For now, though, he could allow Seifer a few more hours of peace; Hyne knows he didn't get much of it in his life. He gave a weary sigh, rubbing his eyes. A glance at the clock confirmed it was still far too fucking early to be awake - it was barely six. _Well_, he thought indifferently to himself, stretching his arms and shoulders as he tried to wake up,_ I guess it's not too late for a run…_

* * *

Seifer awoke, again, to the sound of pounding - although this time the sound seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby, not from within his head… someone was stomping around close by. He groaned, the low, irritated sound morphing into a cry of pain as he cracked one eyelid and sat up and was assaulted by a bright, happy ray of sunlight directly in his eyes. He clamped a hand over his face and rolled back over into the mattress.

Footsteps approached, and Seifer thought he heard a quiet chuckle, as if someone was amused at his expense, but he could think of very few people who would dare to be. "Morning, princess," A voice said - a very familiar voice, he thought, but he couldn't quite place it… which was not surprising, considering that the state of his brain was comparable to vanilla pudding. "Cuppa?"

"Please," Seifer replied softly, attempting to sound sharp but - if the snort he heard in response was any indication - falling flat in his efforts. It was just too much work to be snarky and his brain simply didn't have the capacity for it at the moment.

"Milk or sugar?"

"Neither." He could faintly hear the sounds of someone making tea in the next room. And who the hell had come into his room, anyway? The few people who knew his passcode or possessed a keycard that would gain them entry would hardly be inclined to stay and make him a cup of tea, even if he was feeling shit-awful and, presumably, looking the part as well. He rolled to the left, and was unpleasantly surprised to find himself rolling right onto the floor, the collision sending waves of pain rolling through his skull.

That was definitely not right. There should have been a wall there. Feeling suddenly very apprehensive, Seifer sat up and peeled his eyelids open to find himself staring at a bedroom that was not his. The bed, on which he'd just moments ago been soundly snoring - not his. The walls, the bookshelves opposite, the posters tacked up, that punching bag hanging in the corner - none of it his. Well, there was one thing here that was his; he stood shakily and shuffled over to snatch his trenchcoat off the floor where it lay in a crumpled pile, and he slipped it on, still looking around and racking his brain to find something familiar in this room, but after a couple of minutes he was certain he had never been here before. Moreover, it didn't seem to be another student's room - the layout was different from his own, and it was larger, it could almost have been an instructor's…

Seifer's entire body stiffened as he contemplated the thought. He couldn't have spent the night in a teacher's room… no, what teacher would have taken him in, drunk as he was? Even Quistis, who was only slightly more tolerant of him than any of the other instructors, would have quicker turned him in to Squall than allow him to sleep off his inebriation in her dorm. In fact, Seifer couldn't think of a single person within Garden who would take him in like that, except Fuujin or Raijin, (and Fuu only if she was in an exceptionally good mood; if not, she'd be more likely to kick him to the curb than anyone else,)… but that was beside the point anyway, because neither of them were currently here; they had both been deployed to Esthar as representatives of Garden for the annual conference on the other country's ever-advancing technology. Squall had taken to sending the pair of them to Esthar often, which he claimed was because Fuujin did exceptional work as an ambassador for the Garden, but everyone knew was only because he didn't want to go himself. _And who_would _want to, with a father like that?_ Seifer mused to himself. In any case, he didn't see much of either of them anymore, which (although he wouldn't admit it, even to himself,) made him a little depressed.

Not that that really mattered at the moment… he still hadn't figured out just who the fuck's room he was in.

He turned around and wandered slowly toward the kitchenette, not entirely certain that he wanted to know who was sitting in there. There wasn't a long list of people it could be… Perhaps he could just leave without finding out who it was. There was no reason, after all, that he couldn't just turn and walk right out the door… except that he was Seifer Almasy, damnit, not some kind of coward who would run away to avoid embarrassment. Think of what would happen to his reputation if _that_ got out. No, the better option was to make sure that whoever's hospitality he had imposed on for the night was going to keep their mouth shut about the whole event… and with that thought in mind, he peeked around the kitchen door.

"Dincht?!" He growled, shocked. Zell looked calmly up from the news feed he was reading on his laptop, taking a bite of his fried egg on toast.

"How's your hangover, Almasy?" He asked chipperly, and Seifer wanted to chop his head off. Chipperness should not be allowed so bloody early in the morning. (It was actually nearly ten already, he noted with a glance to the digital display over the microwave, but as he'd been up into the wee hours of the morning, it was still too early for him to be properly awake.) The martial artist rose from the table and poured a steaming mug of tea from the kettle, offering it out to Seifer, who accepted it only hesitantly. "Y'look like shit, by the way."

"Uh…" Seifer said stupidly, standing in the doorway with his mug as Zell returned to his seat and chomped on his breakfast. The smell of it was making Seifer slightly queasy, and he sipped his tea, feeling completely clueless. What was Zell up to?

"Breakfast?"

Seifer shook his head, and his brain throbbed. Why couldn't Zell offer him some damn aspirin?

"Well." The other boy chewed on a corner of toast, his casualness irritating Seifer. "If there's nothing else you need, why don't you get the fuck out of my room."

"Don't give me fuckin' orders, chicken-wuss!" Seifer barked, but was silenced by the unusually sharp glare he received in response. Looked like Zell had more fire in him than he would have thought. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, cradling the mug of tea in his hands, and at length moved over to sit at the table.

Zell was masterfully ignoring his presence, displaying a rare nonchalance where Seifer was concerned…_Picked a fine fucking time to start acting mature_, the elder boy thought. He shifted uncomfortably in the kitchen chair and drank some of his tea, feeling a bit refreshed. Christ, wouldn't a smoke taste fantastic right about then… His pack was still in the pocket of his coat, he could feel it as he slipped his hand in unconsciously to grab it before realizing where he was… No, in the mood he was currently in, Zell would probably start breaking his fingers if he tried to put a cigarette between them. He turned the pack over in his pocket, running his fingers over the edges of the box. Zell watched him passively before leaning back in his chair to rummage through a drawer behind him, producing an object which he placed in the center of the table… a glass ashtray.

_Well, fuck me_, Seifer thought to himself, even as he pulled the dish toward him and lit up, _The chicken's just full of surprises this fine morning_. "You a smoker?"

Zell simply shook his head, typing on his computer with one hand as he slurped egg off of his now-soggy toast. Seifer smoked, discretely watching the other boy - he looked utterly serene as he stared at the computer screen and finished his breakfast, tossing his head to remove the damp locks of golden hair that were hanging in his eyes. Without that stupid crest, his hair was actually quite long; he looked older, more mature, like the instructor he was, and not like the little kid he still acted like. A silence stretched between them. Seifer found himself becoming seriously aggravated; it figured that the one time he actually _wanted_ Zell to talk, to say something, any kind of explanation - even just to tell him to piss off - the blue-eyed boy was keeping mum. He sucked in lungfuls of smoke and then stabbed the last bit of his cigarette out in the ashtray.

"What am…" He began, stalling as the younger boy looked up at him. _Oh, fuck it, what do I care what Dincht thinks of me?_ "What am I doing here?" He plunged on, frowning and hoping that putting on his "angry face" would intimidate Zell enough to keep him from making any smart-assed remarks. He wasn't honestly surprised that it didn't work, either.

Zell closed his laptop and put down his toast, dusting the crumbs from his hands as he gave the gunblader the most serious look he'd ever seen the boy make. "You don't… remember?" He asked quietly, gravely, and Seifer felt his stomach lurch.

"Don't fuckin' play games, Dincht," He snarled, standing from his seat and slamming his mug of tea down on the table, but Zell wasn't to be cowed by his show of aggression. Even without weapons or magic, Zell could beat Seifer in a physical fight any day of the week, and they both knew it. Moreover, Zell had something on Seifer - that smirk, that look in his eyes, both said clearly that he did - and Seifer would be damned if he was going to go without finding out what it was. "Answer my question."

"You were drunk," Zell began - a bit unnecessarily, Seifer thought, as it was obvious to him that he'd been trashed last night - and paused for a moment, as though he was thinking on how to phrase something delicately. He went on, "You came into my room. Forced yourself into my bed. You tried…" He stopped again, as if for effect, casting a nervous glance Seifer's way. "…To take me. You begged when I refused."

"No fuckin' way I did that," Seifer said immediately, clenching a fist on the table, but he couldn't pretend that the slight shifting of his voice - a subtle and brief rise in timbre - was unnoticeable… and it certainly hadn't gone unnoticed by Zell, who was now smirking again, clearly aware that he had the upper hand simply because he had knowledge of what had happened the night before, whatever that was. It wasn't as if Seifer really thought he could have done such a thing - hell, this was the chicken-wuss! Suicide was more appealing than the thought of coming on to Dincht - but just the fact that he had hesitated, that somewhere in the back of his mind, some part of his brain didn't find the thought of it completely and utterly impossible, gave Zell far too much leverage for Seifer's liking.

"No," The martial artist agreed, rising from his seat slowly, "But that don't mean I can't tell everyone that if you don't get the hell out of my dorm right now."

"You wouldn't dare-!"

"If you don't piss off right now, I won't have to dare. In 'bout five minutes, that corridor's going to be full of students."

Seifer wanted to retort, but he knew full well that was the truth - he had a very small window of time in which to escape unseen from the instructor's room, and that window was coming to a close. Furthermore… just what the hell was up with Zell this morning? Maybe it was just because in his hungover state, Seifer possessed the approximate IQ of a potted plant, but Zell seemed to be getting the better of him at every turn this morning. He was completely cool and collected, while Seifer was caught unawares and agape, unable to come up with even one witty, snarky rejoinder to defend himself. Had the world gone mad, or was he finally losing his finesse when it came to dealing with the chicken?

He snarled under his breath, but Zell wasn't fazed by his hostility. He had returned to his seat and was now staring at Seifer, almost… expectantly? Like he was waiting for something? _Oh, right, he's waiting for me to run away_, Seifer thought testily.

So, for the first time in his life, Seifer did just that.


	2. Chapter 2

"Seifer, I wonder if I could have a word with you?"

Seifer barely glanced up at the tall blonde approaching him. "No," He said curtly, hoping that perhaps she would just leave if he ignored her presence long enough - of course, it had never worked before; when Quistis got it in her head that the needed to talk, there was little Seifer could do to escape her until he had been thoroughly lectured… but a guy could dream, right? She took a seat across the table from him, setting down a massive binder crammed with folders and papers next to her lunch tray.

"That wasn't really a question," She announced, giving him a very stern, don't-even-think-about-trying-to-wiggle-your-way-out-of-this-one kind of stare. As if he would have tried to embark on such a useless endeavor as attempting to get out of a scolding from Quistis, Queen of Lectures. He picked at the half-eaten sandwich on his plate while the instructor watched him, clearly trying to determine exactly how bad his mood was and mentally adjusting the severity of the sermon she was planning to give him accordingly. At length, she began, "I didn't see much of you at the graduation ceremony last night."

"I didn't see much of you, either, instructor," Seifer replied cordially, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "But that's probably because I was making a conscious effort not to."

"Seifer." She said in her most authoritative voice. The gunblader smirked; not fifteen seconds into their conversation, and she was already bringing out the big guns. Either he'd done something particularly dastardly to her last night that he couldn't remember, or - more likely - Squall had bitten her head off for not chaperoning him properly at the banquet and she was now going to take out her frustration on him. "What were you up to last night?"

"Give me one reason why it's any of your business, and I'll tell you," He said, shrugging nonchalantly. Her expression turned stony, and she abandoned the salad she had been nibbling at to clasp her hands together in front of her, giving Seifer a very no-nonsense stare that may have worked on her groupies, but certainly didn't daunt him any.

"Very well. It's my business because I am the one who had to spend half the morning searching for you," She said coldly, peering at him over the rim of her glasses. "Xu and I looked for you for hours after the banquet had ended. All I want to know is where you spent the night, and that you didn't create any disturbances."

"If I had, wouldn't you have heard about them already?" He snipped back. Unsurprisingly, her irritation with him was not mitigated by this answer at all.

She tossed her head, and Seifer noted a flock of her groupies hovering nearby, no doubt monitoring their conversation closely to make sure he wasn't causing their beloved instructor any undue stress. He sighed again, pushing his plate away, but before he could actually get up and escape, Quistis continued, "You didn't spend the night in your room, and I checked all the usual places. Now, I could go through all the security footage from last night, but I think it'd just be easier if you told me now and saved us both a lot of time."

"The usual places?" He repeated, slightly annoyed by the way she'd said that - as if getting stinking drunk and collapsing just anywhere was something he did regularly enough for her to know where he would go to do it. She gave him a small, cocky grin that was completely uncharacteristic of her… what was it with everyone taking the piss out of him today? His luck must be really out of whack or something if even Quistis was able to one-up him.

"Your dorm, of course, Fuujin's, and Raijin's," She began to tick off on her fingers. "The library, the parking lot - behind the front desk - the maintenance tunnels… I even went through the training center to make sure you hadn't passed out and gotten chewed on by a T-Rexaur. I think that just about covers all your usual haunts…"

Seifer gritted his teeth. How the fuck did she know all of his favorite hiding places? She was smiling gently, waiting patiently for a reply, and, to be honest, he was a little too dumbstruck by the fact that she apparently knew where he was at every moment of the day to be bothered putting much effort into a response.

"Well, since you've established that I wasn't in any of those places, that leaves you a lot less area to cover when you're looking over that video footage, doesn't it?" He said tepidly, standing and grabbing his lunch tray before stalking off. He dumped the remnants of his lunch in a bin, stacked the tray on top, and then cast one glance back at Quistis - whose put-out expression displayed plainly that her threat to probe the security footage to find out where he'd spent the night was nothing more than a bluff, to which he smirked, feeling extremely smug - before stalking out of the cafeteria.

It's not like she would have believed him, anyway, if he had told her the truth. Who would believe that he could ever be desperate enough to sleep with Zell - or that Zell would ever let him? The idea of it was so far-fetched it bordered on preposterous. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if he hadn't imagined the entire ordeal… No, the memory of Zell's body pressed against his, even for just the moment that it had been, still burned on his skin, that was no dream…

_Wait… what?_

Seifer blinked, and he stopped short where he was walking down the corridor, causing more than a few irritated students to mutter mutinously under their breath as they closely avoided running into him. What was he thinking? He shook his head, trying to regain his train of thought, which certainly wasn't going to be making any stops on the other side of the fence.

He stuffed his hand into his coat pocket, curling his fingers around the carton of cigarettes. It was definitely feeling like time for another… Luckily, he still had one last hiding spot to resort to he could guarantee that not Quistis or anyone else knew about…

Zell sluiced a handful of cold water over his face before turning off the tap, leaning over the bathroom counter as he breathed heavily, the only sound in the quiet dorm room besides the gentle thumping of the punching bag in the corner as it bounced against the wall. He still felt edgy - his entire body was as tense as a coiled spring, even after his run, after the two hours he'd spent pummeling grats in the training center, and even after having beaten the stuffing out of every bag he owned… this was too much.

It wasn't as if he didn't know what the problem was… no, that in itself was the problem; he knew exactly why he couldn't get rid of all this tension, and it was seriously unnerving him. He had gone far longer than this without sex before, and it had never affected him this badly… but then, he'd never been teased like this before, either, and he had always had someone to go to if things got really desperate - if not a girlfriend, then at least someone with whom he could come to an arrangement that was suitable for them both.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. That was it… he knew just where to go. He patted his face dry with a towel and grabbed a jacket off the back of the door, shrugging it on over his black tank-top, heading for the door - and jumping back in shock as he opened it to find someone standing just on the other side.

"Quistis!" He said in surprise, stepping back to allow her room to enter. "Sorry, you scared me!"

"You scared me a little," She admitted, placing a hand on her chest. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Nope, c'mon in," Zell replied, waving her in. She entered, toting the massive file folder stuffed thick with papers that she never seemed to be seen without, and she rifled through it until she found what she was looking for, pulling out a smaller three-ring binder that she handed over to her colleague with a smile.

"I just brought a few things, um… my schedule for next week, some of the topics I was planning to cover in class…" She explained, watching Zell flip through the binder, scanning her lesson plans. "And thanks again for covering my classes next week. I wasn't expecting to have to go to Timber so soon…"

"S'no problem, I got absolutely nothing going on," Zell grinned in response, snapping the binder shut and tossing it haphazardly onto the couch, earning himself a disapproving stare from the beautiful blonde. He shuffled from foot to foot, cramming his hands into his pockets, while Quistis went on about her syllabus, which subjects were to be covered on which days, how much time was to be spent on each point, and other stuff that Zell generally didn't give a damn about; he was planning to let her class have free study all week, mostly because he felt they deserved it - good intentions aside, Quistis tended to be far too harsh with her students - well, maybe he could show a movie or something, so they could at least pretend he'd done some teaching while he was substituting in her absence...

_Absolutely nothing… Absolutely nothing_… the phrase echoed in his head like a death knell. It was painfully true; he had nothing going on, absolutely nothing at all, in his life right now. The two classes he taught - history of magic and intermediate junctioning - were through for the semester, although there was still the beginner's hand combat course he headed, which ran year round, but that was just one hour once a week - hardly anything to occupy his time. In fact, until Quistis had come to him to ask the favor of him substituting while she went on a mission, he had entirely planned to seclude himself in his room with a stockpile of junk food and some good movies and books for the week - although, as he now thought about that plan, it seemed miserably pathetic, and he was somewhat glad he had been given the opportunity to do something more constructive than vegging out in his dorm room.

"Zell?" He snapped his head up. Quistis was repeating his name concernedly, and he did a mental backpedal to try and remember just what she was blabbering on about before he'd completely zoned out. He sidled over to the couch and retrieved the binder he'd so disrespectfully discarded minutes before, skimming through it again so as to seem like he'd been following her.

"Sorry, I must've spaced out for a second. What were you saying?" He muttered.

"Have you been smoking?"

"What? You know I don't smoke-" Zell replied, confused, and looked up at her - but she was staring, not at him, but through the door to the kitchenette at the table, where the ashtray he'd set out for Seifer that morning was still sitting with the two mugs right where he'd left it all and had forgotten to put it away. He felt himself pale - there were only two people who ever visited him who smoked, and Quistis knew that, because one of those two was herself (she had, in fact, been known to go through a pack a day or more during the more stressful times of the school year, like exam season,) and the other was Irvine, who had been in Galbadia for the past five months and was therefore very unlikely to have come calling on Zell recently. She turned her gaze on him curiously, and he adopted an expression of utmost nonchalance, racking his brain for something to put her off the subject.

"Who else do you know that smokes?" Zell resisted the urge to curse aloud. Any other time there was a sign that someone had possibly stayed the night with him, she would be far too polite to ask outright, instead preferring the tactic of keeping a respectful silence punctuated with pointedly curious stares, waiting until he spilled the secret himself - which Zell usually did; he and secrets had never gone well together. Figures the one time he really was concerned about no one knowing who had spent the night in his room, she would choose to become interested in his personal life.

"Nida," He blurted out the first name that popped into his head, and Quistis looked utterly shocked - as well she should; why the fuck he'd said the pilot's name he'd never fathom, because Nida was probably the very last person he could imagine smoking, besides which they were hardly friends at all; if the other SeeD were to have any unsavory habits like that, Zell would be one of the last people he confided in about it. Quistis frowned contemplatively, while Zell internally cursed himself for once again having spoken completely without thinking, a trait of his that more often than not got him into trouble.

"I'm certain Nida doesn't smoke," She said eventually - and she would be the one to know, Zell thought to himself, as she seemed to spend much of her time keeping tabs on everyone to make sure they were behaving themselves in a manner befitting SeeDs (despite the fact that she, herself, often behaved in a manner very unbefitting of a veteran SeeD _and_ an instructor - anyone who'd seen her performance on top of the bar at the last New Year's party could attest to that.) Zell bit his lip, fishing for something to say.

"Well, I don't think he likes people to know. It's not often. Just, y'know, when he's stressed out." He said sheepishly. Quistis didn't seem to be buying it. Damn, he was just digging himself deeper and deeper, wasn't he?

"Stressed out?"

"Come on… the guy flies this damn Garden around twenty-four-seven… you don't think that gets a little stressful?" He tried. To his relief, Quistis began to look chagrined, a sign that she believed him and was slightly ashamed of having doubted him. On impulse, he added, "Just… don't mention it to anyone, okay? Especially Nida. He'll know I blabbed."

"Of course," She nodded enthusiastically. Quistis was so easy to play; although she'd never admit it, she would do anything to be let in on a secret, which Zell knew full well and used to his advantage as often as he could get away with. "Anyway, I should get going. You looked like you were about to go out somewhere, yourself," She said, assuming a serious expression once more. Zell shuffled from foot to foot, giving a casual shrug.

"Yeah, gotta stop by the library."

"Well, I'll see you later, then," Quistis moved past him to the door, showing a rare warm smile as she clutched the monstrous clip of papers to her chest. "I've got to check in with Squall, so I'm going the other way."

"Mmm-hmm," He nodded, waving her off as she sauntered away, the clacking of her heels on the tile echoing through the corridor. Zell sighed. He watched her leave and, when she had rounded the corner, promptly slammed the door shut and stomped back into the kitchen to get rid of the dishes he'd so carelessly left out - disposing of evidence, as it were. That was certainly reckless - how could he have been so absentminded as to leave such incriminating evidence lying around? Well, he hadn't been expecting any surprise visits from Quistis or anyone, there was a small point in his favor. He dumped out the ashes and threw the ashtray back in the drawer where it belonged, and then gathered the two mugs from the table and tossed them rather heedlessly into the sink.

_And Nida? What the fuck possessed me to say his name, of all people?_ Zell thought to himself crossly, leaning against the counter and heaving a great sigh. Hyne, that really was a close call - and Quistis tended to be of the suspicious sort; had he really put her off the scent, or was she just feigning noninterest in his guest? It was hard to tell with her… Zell could rarely tell what his colleague was thinking; she seemed to often have hidden agendas, which was quite fine with him, as long as he didn't have his _own_ agendas to try and keep, well, hidden. And although he'd managed to remain uncharacteristically nonchalant earlier that morning when Seifer was still around, he had as much desire as the other boy to keep the fact that he'd spent the night there a secret. In fact, he had more - he was an instructor, after all, and even though Seifer was an arse and somewhat of a special case within Garden, even though they had history, even though everyone knew that Zell was just too nice for his own good and would never kick _anyone_ out in cold blood - even someone who had made a good portion of his school life a complete misery - the fact remained that Seifer, a student, had spent the night in his, a teacher's, room, and that spelled trouble with a capital T if anyone found out.

He stood there for a few minutes more, mentally cursing himself and then Seifer, whose fault the whole stupid situation was in the first place. The idiotic arse just _had_ to come knocking on _his_ door - and why, in the first place, had he even _opened_ the door? It wasn't as if anyone he ever expected to come visiting would do so in the middle of the night, but then, he _had_ been in the middle of a dead sleep, and Seifer had been making an undue amount of noise in the hallway. In fact, he had been surprised that no one else had already gone out there to kick the gunblader's arse before he himself got to it, before he'd remembered that most of the other instructors were at the banquet-

The banquet. The banquet that Seifer had gotten himself blitzed at and then escaped from in order to come irritate Zell. The banquet that Quistis had also been at and had complained about for days prior because Squall had set her the task of playing babysitter to the unpredictable blonde, who she _had_ to have noticed had disappeared halfway through the celebration. How long would it be before her suspecting nature incited her to put two and two together, and wonder just where Seifer had escaped to…?

Zell scoffed aloud at himself. Now he was just being paranoid. He needed to get his mind off the whole ordeal, and especially off Seifer. Which reminded him of what he had been planning to do before Quistis' untimely arrival, but he wasn't entirely sure he still felt like… well, there was no harm in getting out of the apartment for a little while to clear his head, in any case. He could sure use a distraction right about now, and, luckily, he knew exactly where to find one.

Seifer carefully scanned the area to make sure it was clear of anyone he didn't want to encounter - which was just about everybody - before he climbed over the ledge he had been hiding behind and swung down from his perch on the sloping roof over the Quad. He dropped the twenty feet or so to the ground in a crouch and then stood, dusting a few ashes off the sleeve of his coat. Hyne, but it was a pain getting up there - but it was well worth it, being both completely secluded and so inconvenient to access that it was almost a guarantee that he would never have the surprise of being joined there. It also happened to be just about the last place he could be close to sure that no one would be able to find him - particularly a certain blonde instructor who had a bad habit of sticking her nose in his business, which was one place it certainly didn't belong.

He wandered slowly out of the Quad, musing on where to go - there was no place in particular he wanted to avoid; he disliked every sector of the Garden as much as the next, and as they were currently docked in FH, he wouldn't be going outside of the ship to explore - he held as much contempt for the fishing village as it did for him, although it was understandable that they should hate him, him having been the head of the Galbadian army and the Sorceress' mascot; in essence, the face of the war. Peaceable town or not, it was evident every time he stepped outside the Garden that the residents held grudges, and even in the best of moods Seifer had a hard time taking it in stride. He knew full well that he deserved it, but that didn't mean he had to _like_ it.

He circled the first floor, and then veered towards the dormitories. He couldn't leave the ship, his classes had all ended for the semester, he hadn't been sent on any missions in fuck knows how long, and Fuujin and Raijin weren't due back from Esthar for another two weeks or so - Seifer wondered if it wasn't possible to be bored to death. He rounded the corner towards his room - and stopped short upon seeing the congregation of people gathered by his door. _Damn. Double damn. Is it too late to run away?_ He thought to himself.

"Seifer, there you are!" Quistis chirped, starting toward him, followed by the second and third on the list of his least favorite people - Squall and Xu. Yep, too late. Grumbling to himself, he walked forward again; maybe he could just walk right past them into his room. No, maybe not - Squall was giving him a glare icy enough to send chills down Shiva's spine, although Seifer couldn't imagine that he was really _that_ offended by him bunking out of the party early the night before, not when he knew for a fact that Squall hated attending those things as much as he did, if not more - Seifer, at least, wasn't forced to make speeches at every event. But he couldn't remember any other recent instances in which he had done anything that might piss off Commander Crabass, aside from simply existing, which seemed to piss everybody off to some extent, so he attempted to remain impassive, waiting to see what this was all about. Quistis went on, "Where have you been all afternoon?"

"My dear Quistis, wherever did you get the idea that my whereabouts are any of your business?" He replied cordially, though not enough so to keep from receiving a collective look of disdain from the three of them. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was going to be a fun conversation.

"You reek of cigarettes," She added, giving a deep frown, but she didn't look expressly angry, merely thoughtful. "You do know smoking is banned in the Garden, don't you."

"Really? And does that apply to teachers as well? Because you might be in some trouble yourself, instructor," He replied, but with little venom - Quistis was still frowning at him, contemplative, as though something had occurred to her and she was trying to piece it together in her head. She didn't even notice the curious glance Squall shot her way at the accusation, and continued to say nothing for a few moments, her unusual silence making Seifer good and nervous. At length, Xu spoke.

"You know, Seifer, just because you-"

"I suppose," Quistis interrupted, paying no attention to the other girl whom she had cut off and who was now staring at her, looking fairly offended, "That you've been hiding out in the same place you effectively hid from me last night?"

Seifer peered at her, unsure of where she was heading. "No," he answered eventually, "I wasn't, actually. _Not_that it's any of your business where I spend my free time."

"It's our business when we need to find you and you're nowhere to be found," Xu interjected, her sharp tone indicating that she was more than a little irritated with him - she was evidently still bitter about having had to spend half the night searching for him with Quistis. Seifer, himself, was becoming frustrated with the three of them; Xu was looking very cross with him and not attempting to hide it, Squall seemed to be torn between being amused at her anger and being angry himself, and Quistis was still merely staring at him, _scrutinizing_him - but for what, he couldn't be sure, and that made him slightly anxious.

"So, what?" He began with a half-laugh, shrugging his shoulders. "You all came down here to grill me, to find out where I've been holing up? Just so you know, it's not possible to nag someone to death, but good effort. Bravo." He clapped sarcastically, edging around the group and toward his door. He didn't quite make it inside, however, before someone spoke again - this time, Squall.

"I have a small assignment for you," He said quietly, and Seifer turned despite himself. Squall shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets and looking supremely nonchalant, as he went on, "I was going to ask you to join Fuujin and Raijin in Esthar..."

"You _were_?" Seifer repeated doubtfully. His response was merely another shrug, and Seifer had to restrain himself from socking the stoic brunette in the face in reply to all his fucking shrugs.

"Seeing your attitude, I'm not so sure now."

"You don't look like you particularly want me to go," Seifer said, leaning casually against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. It was true; Squall's facial expression - though hardly far removed from his normal deadpan expression - showed that sending Seifer abroad was the very last thing he wanted to do. He was always hesitant to send Seifer anywhere, and especially anywhere where the ex-knight's appearance might cause an altercation, which was, frankly, everywhere. Seifer could count the number of real, actual missions he'd gone on since he'd become a SeeD on one hand.

Quistis piped up, "He doesn't - it was my idea. You seemed exceptionally restless lately, and I thought a change of pace would do you good," She explained, leaving Seifer mildly surprised that she'd picked up on such a thing - but considering how much time she spent involving herself in the affairs of others, maybe it wasn't so surprising. Still, although he certainly wouldn't have admitted it, he felt somewhat grateful that she_had_ suggested it; he was beginning to feel a little stir-crazy being cooped up in the Garden all the time.

"Why, I never knew you were so considerate, instructor," He said civilly, offering her a sedated version of the sarcastic smirk he was so well known for. He had tried his best to keep the derision in his tone to a bare minimum, but had apparently not done so well enough, because her frown only deepened.

"Well, I personally thought that you would jump at a chance to get away from this place for a little while, but I guess I overlooked the fact that you are, after all, an arse," She replied tepidly, folding her arms in front of her.

The smile dropped from Seifer's face, replaced by a scowl that was almost as trademark as his smirk. "Well, if that's all." He said shortly, and turned to punch in the password on the keypad outside his door. The lock clicked and he slid the door open, but was not quite able to reach the sanctuary of _inside_ his room before Squall had one more thing to say.

"You'll be leaving a week from tomorrow. Be ready to go by then."

"And, it probably doesn't need to be said," Xu added sternly as Squall turned away and headed down the corridor, clearly having nothing more to add to the conversation, "But try and behave until then?"

She too, then, trotted away to catch up with the headmaster, and Seifer, left standing with Quistis, watched the two of them go from his doorway, feeling strangely… happy. Well, given the chance to finally get out of this flying prison and stretch his legs a little, who wouldn't be? Getting to see his posse - well, he supposed they couldn't really be called that anymore; they took their orders from Squall now, and the prissy commander would never let Seifer forget that - was an added bonus. He smiled to himself, before casting a glance over at the instructor who had, all the while, been watching him with the same intent she had shown throughout the whole encounter… and it was beginning to seriously unnerve him. She only ever looked at him like that if she was having some kind of idea, and he didn't particularly want her having _any_ ideas, because they never turned out to his liking.

"I hope you're not plannin' on hanging around here all day just cos Squall let you off your leash for a while," He snorted, but, disappointingly, Quistis didn't rise to the bait - didn't even flinch at the implication, merely cocking her head slightly as she peered up at him… and was Seifer mistaken, or did she seem to be _smirking_? Shit, she was definitely on to something… but just _what_, that was the million-gil question, wasn't it? Well, knowing Quistis, she wouldn't keep him in suspense long; she never had been especially good with secrets.

"Oh by the way, Seifer, before I forget to tell you," She began - _Here it comes,_ Seifer mentally braced himself - and she smiled in a way that might have seemed sweet to anyone who hadn't been on the receiving end of such smiles often enough to know what kind of mischievous intentions they hid. She was about to pull her trump card, whatever it was, and though Seifer honestly couldn't think of anything he'd done lately that would cause her such elation just at the thought of holding it over him, he couldn't help but be wary. He waited for her to continue, and she did, after a pointedly lengthy pause, "Zell was looking for you earlier. I believe he had something to discuss with you."

Seifer felt himself pale; he'd been expecting _something_, but, for a variety of reasons, not _that_. That's why she'd been acting so imperious - goddamn Dincht had told her everything! He bit back his anger with difficulty - restraint had never been something at which Seifer excelled - and merely said, hoping he had injected enough indifference into his tone to put her off, "Dincht? Fuck do I want with him?"

"How should I know?" She replied, although her entire countenance suggested that she did, in fact, know. She looked positively triumphant, and Seifer was becoming angry not knowing _why_. He was just about to bite the bullet and ask her, he was that desperate to know what she was laughing at him over, but as he was steeling himself to begin, Quistis left - without even the consideration of a word of farewell, she simply turned and moseyed away, her head held proudly high, leaving Seifer to stand in his doorway thoroughly seething in anger.

_He's so fucking dead,_ was the first thing Seifer decided after he took a few moments to collect his thoughts. Damned Dincht and his big mouth…! If he'd told Quistis, who else had he told? No, never mind that - if Quistis knew, then it was only a matter of time before Squall knew, which meant that Seifer might as well just go start packing now. But before that, there was the small matter of crunching up Zell's jaw a little to attend to - just to make sure that he didn't blab to anyone else.

It didn't occur to Seifer until he was well on his way to the instructors' wing of the dormitories to wonder_exactly what_ Zell had told her… Certainly he wouldn't have followed through on the threat he'd made earlier in the morning… would he? Seifer felt a stab of panic as he pondered it. No, Zell wasn't vindictive - unlike the gunblader, he wouldn't be an asshole just for the sake of being an asshole; even when provoked, he rarely did more than bitch and rant or, if he was _really_ well egged on, throw a few punches, but he had never been known to seek petty revenge… And considering that Seifer hadn't even really done anything to him, aside from costing him a few hours of sleep, he especially shouldn't be seeking to do so now. But there was no way, absolutely no way that he'd told Quistis without knowing full well that it would get around - that was the only reason anyone ever told Quistis anything of importance.

Well, it didn't matter anyway… Zell would definitely think twice about ever spreading rumors about him again, Seifer was going to make sure of that.

"Hey, Carmina! I need a favor," Zell whispered loudly, nearly startling the girl he was addressing off the ladder up which she had been climbing, her arms full of books. She teetered, and Zell jumped under the ladder to catch her in case she fell - she didn't, just managing to keep her balance at the top of the swaying ladder, but she glared down at him furiously, pelting him with a number of paperbacks until he retreated across the library in defeat.

"Shit, Zell! What's wrong with you, scaring me like that?" She huffed. Zell held up his hands, his expression offering a meek apology.

"Sorry, sorry!"

"I'll be down in like one second, just wait there!" She growled, turning back around and stuffing books back into the shelves where they belonged, the wrath simmering under her innocent exterior evident in the purely negligent manner in which she was cramming the books into their rightful places. Zell waited aside, tucking his hands into his pockets sheepishly - he always forgot that Carmina was the temperamental one, and he vaguely wished it had been the other girl working that afternoon, the shy little blonde one - he could never remember her name, but he was much less likely to receive a verbal bashing from her than from the other. Of course, it would have been best if Miri had been working, seeing as she was the person he was looking for, but he had no such luck.

Carmina, now finished with her restocking, stomped back down the ladder and stalked over to Zell, who was waiting by the front desk, and boy did she look pissed off… Zell wondered if it wouldn't just be better to apologize and retreat for now; the girl didn't look like she was in the mood to be trifled with, and his reason for interrupting her work seemed more and more trifling with each heavy, angry step she took toward him. "I… I'm sorry, really I am," He repeated, cowering slightly upon her arrival at his side, and he must have looked penitent enough, because her features softened a small bit.

"_What_ do you _want_, Zell?" She asked sharply, punctuating each word with a quick breath as she folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the counter beside him. "I told you on Friday that the new issue of Combat King doesn't come out until next week, so if that's what you're after-"

"No, that's not it," He said quickly, giving a long sigh. "I'm looking for Miri, she's not working this afternoon?"

"No, she's not," Carmina spat, tossing her hair huffily. "I switched shifts with her today because she wanted the night off. She has a _date_," She muttered the last as if just saying it was poison on her lips, and Zell felt the little bit of good spirit he had inside him deflate. So much for that plan. He hadn't known Miri was seeing someone; to Zell's knowledge, it would be the first time since they had broken up - if you _could_ call what had happened between them a break-up, since at the most their relationship had been (and, to some extent, still was) little more than the occasional hook-up. But even that, his last resort, was now no longer an option if Miri had a boyfriend. Shit, why was everyone getting some except him?

"Hm," Was all he said in response, chewing on the corner of his lip.

"As if she's the only one who ever had a fucking date. Like _no one else_ had anything to do tonight," Carmina murmured, her tone acidic as she curled a stray braid near her temple around her finger. "_My_ boyfriend lives in Balamb, and I had to work the _whole time_ we were docked there. Didn't see _her_ volunteering to give me a day off so I could go on a _date_."

Zell thought he knew exactly how she felt, but he didn't say anything, mostly because Carmina didn't seem to want an answer and he was still slightly wary that she might attack if he offered her one. At least he wasn't the only one suffering from a lack of companionship, he thought bitterly to himself. For Hyne's sake, he had saved the world - well, he had helped - girls ought to have been falling at his feet! But then, he had never been particularly good with girls in the romantic sense; he had plenty of female friends, but something about him always seemed to scare away the potential for anything more than friendship.

"Hmmm," He said again, wilting a little. Carmina peered sideways at him.

"Y'okay, Zell?" She asked, a note of concern briefly overshadowing her pique. "You're awful quiet."

"You know…" He began, but trailed off with a desolate sigh. "It's not important. Just, never mind."

"Yeah?" She didn't sound as if she believed him, and said, "Well, s'there anything I can do to help?"

"No," Zell replied, trying to suppress a snort of laughter at the ideas that _that_ brought to mind. No doubt if Carmina knew what he was after, she'd be much less keen on offering her assistance, but he wasn't about to tell her. Instead, he went on, "Thanks, but, uh… I'll be fine."

"Sure. It's just strange, seeing you so mellow."

"Sorry. Umm," He hummed, pushing himself off the counter and shuffling from foot to foot as he turned around. "Anyway, I'll see you around. And hey, sorry again about scaring you!"

"Yeah, you should be…!" He heard her call after him as he trotted away, but she was grinning when he cast a glance back at her, a sure sign that she wasn't truly angry with him. She was a spunky girl, to be sure, and Zell had gotten on the wrong side of her enough times to know well enough how to defuse her anger when it was aimed at him. He remembered a time when they first met when he had even considered asking her out, but that notion was quickly put out of mind after he got to know her, and he was glad of it, too, because he was certain now that he never could have handled her fiery personality. Indeed, he'd like to meet the guy who could.

Still, he mused to himself as he wandered down the hallway aimlessly, the trip to the library had not solved his problem - he was horny as hell and, with Miri out of the picture, he was not going to find a solution to his dilemma inside the Garden. Going out into town to find a prostitute was an option, but certainly not an appealing one; besides, it was nearly dark already, and although he was allowed to be out of the Garden after dark, not bound by a curfew like the students, the disciplinary committee, headed by Xu, definitely did not condone it. He was supposed to be a role model, after all, and going outside to pick up a hooker didn't strike him as the kind of behavior that Xu would find at all appropriate.

His only recourse, therefore, was to tough it out, and he headed back toward his dormitory to do just that.

It simply wasn't fair. Why shouldn't he be able to get a girlfriend? What was wrong with him that put girls off so much? Hell, if even Squall, the most reclusive, socially and emotionally retarded person Zell had ever met, could get Rinoa to date him - although there was some question of her sanity, all things considered, but everyone Zell knew unanimously agreed that it was the nearest thing to a miracle they'd ever heard of that the two were able to make their relationship work - why the hell couldn't he find a nice, normal girl? It's not like he was searching for a soulmate or anything; hell, at this point, there was only one quality he was looking for in a partner, and that was a good fuck. She didn't even have to _like_ him, a long as she was willing to sleep with him, that's all Zell wanted.

The more he thought about it, the more pathetic it sounded.

It was all Seifer's fault, he decided after pondering it for a while more. Not that he couldn't get a girlfriend, but that he was suddenly so preoccupied with it - the arse just had to come crawling into his bed, making the fact that he usually occupied it alone ever more acutely felt, teasing Zell with his warmth and his touch and the press of his firm, solid chest against Zell's back… _Wait a fucking second..._

Zell stopped walking. Just when, exactly, did the feeling of another man's chest become one of the things he liked to feel pressed against him? Last he'd checked, boobs had topped that list, and male anatomy was nowhere to be seen on it. Shit, he really _was_ desperate for even _considering_ the idea that was crossing his mind just now…

_Bet he'd be a magnificent fuck, though,_ He thought to himself with a grin.

He stopped outside the door to his room, and rested his forehead against the wall as he groaned to himself. As if Seifer would ever fuck him, really - no, that wasn't the point; Zell wasn't even _interested_ in such a thing; he was purely straight, and had never had any inclinations toward that sort of thing… Definitely, definitely not… And as if the idea wasn't ridiculous enough by itself, to think that he might have had any desire to sleep with _Seifer_, of all people…

He punched his code into the keypad beside the door and it beeped to signal that it had unlocked, and he sighed deeply, closing his eyes against the headache that was sneaking up from his temples through his skull. Thinking was bad. People might have made jokes about Zell being stupid, but it was at times like this that he really wished he could shut off his brain for a while, and not have to think at all. He rubbed his tired eyes as he slid through the doorway and shut the door behind him, leaning against it and tilting his head back, eyelids crammed shut. He couldn't wait for the new week to start; at least then he'd have something to distract him, teaching Quistis' classes for a few days. Maybe it would be enough to put this entire train of thought far from his mind.

"Shit, what's wrong with me?" He moaned to himself - at least, he thought it was to himself; he certainly didn't expect to be answered, and was understandably shocked when he was.

"Well, I could make a list, but I don't have that kind of time."

Zell jumped in surprise, opening his eyes immediately, and his jaw dropped a little in disbelief. "Seifer?!"

The gunblader grinned, uncrossing his legs and rising from his place on the bed, tucking his hands into his pockets. His smile was not the least bit friendly, and the intentions hinted in his cold, dark stare sent a small shiver down Zell's spine as he went on, "It's about fucking time you got back, Chicken-wuss. We need to talk…" 


	3. Chapter 3

"What the fuck are you doing here, Almasy?!"

The elder boy resisted a roll of his eyes, shooting Zell with a contemptuous sneer. "I just told you, we have to talk. I know concentration's not your strong point, Dincht, but try to keep up with me here."

"That's not what I meant, arsehole," Zell snarled. "How did you get in my room?"

"1-2-3-4? Come on," Seifer gave a derisive chuckle, earning himself daggers from the martial artist, who looked near ready to rip his unwelcome guest's head off with his bare hands. "If you wanted your room to be broken into, why don't you just leave the door unlocked?"

"You've got no fuckin' right to just barge in here-"

"Excuse me, I did not barge," He defended himself, sitting back down on the bed with the same air of serenity Zell had managed during their encounter that morning. Zell, on the other hand, was fuming as bad as Seifer had ever seen him, and the older boy smirked in satisfaction - this was how things were supposed to be. Obviously, the logistics of their earlier confrontation had been nothing more than a fluke. "I opened the door and entered quite calmly, thank you."

"That's not the point, and get the fuck out," Zell demanded, flinging the door open and pointing his finger to indicate in exactly which direction he expected Seifer to get moving. Seifer did rise, but he didn't leave; he reached past Zell to slide the door shut again, deriving a measure of amusement in the series of colour changes the enraged younger boy's face went through before settling on a very becoming shade of scarlet. Even his ears were red; over all the years of bullying and harassing, this might have been the angriest Seifer had ever seen his favorite target get - well, everyone had a limit, and it seemed Zell drew the line at breaking and entering when it came to Seifer's invading his privacy just to torment him. Not that that's what the gunblader was there to do, at least not this time, but there was no way for Zell to know that.

Seifer stood in front of the door, smirking - and thoroughly enjoying watching Zell fume as he continued, "No can do, dipshit. Y'see, when I said we needed to talk, I didn't mean I would insult you and you would yell at me repeatedly to get out - I actually have something to discuss with you, and I'm not leaving until I'm satisfied that you understand how _pissed off_ I am just now."

For the first time, Zell looked slightly wary, but he didn't back down a step, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and glaring up at Seifer. "What could _we_ have to discuss, shithead?"

"Do you recall that I promised I would murder you if you told anybody I spent the night here?" Seifer asked, the tone of his voice deadly. Zell's eyes narrowed as he was thoughtful for a minute, still looking confused as to just why Seifer was there, but marginally less infuriated than he had been moments before.

"Actually, I _don't_ remember you saying that, but more to the point, I haven't told anyone."

Seifer frowned. Perhaps he had just thought it. He shook his head a little, and said in reply to Zell's vindication, "Then how did Quistis know?"

"Quistis?" The martial artist repeated, his expression contemplative. Seifer nearly wanted to laugh; thoughtfulness was not a good look for Zell. In fact, he looked downright silly, his face - cheeks still stained with the colour of his anger - scrunched up in concentration as he deliberated over the question Seifer had posed. Suddenly, a look of understanding crossed his face - _About damn time,_ Seifer wanted to growl - and, with a short sigh, he said, "Shit. The ashtray."

"The ashtray?"

"Yeah, I left it out," Zell groaned, taking a few steps backwards to plop down on the edge of the bed. "The ashtray, and the two mugs, and she came over 'bout noon and saw it."

"And she knows that you don't smoke," Seifer said conclusively, starting to see where this was leading.

"And you do."

"She also knows that I disappeared halfway through the party last night and didn't reappear until mid-morning, shortly after which she visited you to see that you had recently had company," The older boy continued on, piecing it all together. Zell made a quiet noise of understanding, and then suddenly leapt to his feet, looking excited.

"So... she doesn't actually _know_ anything! She's just guessing!" He said wildly with a grin. He looked positively joyous until Seifer stepped forward, snarling in anger.

"What the fuck are you so happy about, Chicken-wuss?" He barked - not fazed a bit by Zell's hiss of, "Quit callin' me that, goddamnit!" - and he went on crossly, "This ain't fucking funny. What she _thinks_ happened is way worse than what _actually_ happened."

"What she thinks…?" Zell repeated, trailing off with a blank stare. It took him just a moment to get it, and he took on an expression of total disgust, crying out, "Eww! Shit, no way, no!"

"Yeah."

Zell shuddered, his face a ripe shade of pink, and he sat down heavily on the bed again to think. He looked almost ill at the thought of it - and Seifer thought he knew exactly how the other boy felt; really, who could_seriously_ believe that there would ever be something between him and Zell, of all people? Shit, Seifer would sooner let Leonhart fuck him than give any amount of significance to the idea of him and that dipshit martial artist. The very notion was nauseating.

_And yet,_ a little voice piped up in the back of his mind, _this isn't the first time today you've entertained said notion..._

Zell shot up again. "Alright, so… just go tell Quistis the truth. You were drunk, and because I am not a complete arsehole like _some_ people-" He gave Seifer a very pointed glare, as if the gunblader wouldn't have been able to tell to whom he was referring, "-I didn't kick you out. I'm sure she'll understand, it's just a misunderstanding on her part…"

"I'm sure she'd understand, if her and the clod squad weren't all just itching to find a reason to boot me out of here," Seifer said coolly. "Quistis has been hounding me all fuckin' day trying to find out where I spent the night and, no doubt, to confirm that I was doing something to tarnish the Garden's reputation."

"What do you give a shit, anyway? You hate being here," Zell countered - and while it was painfully true, Seifer chose not to respond, merely grinding his teeth as he contemplated his situation. Of course he hated being here, but there was nowhere else for him to go; did Zell really think he'd stay in Garden if he had any other choice? Nowhere else would take him, and as it was, he'd had to practically beg just to be let back in here - not Squall, of course; Seifer would have rather faced a thousand years of exile than petition _him_ for a favour - He had gone to Matron, the only person in the world who could even remotely understand how he felt, and she had appealed to Cid, who, in turn, had appealed to Squall, who had only eventually allowed Seifer to return to his home within the Garden under the strictest of guidelines (and, Seifer was inclined to suspect, with a lot of cajoling from Rinoa, who could always be counted on to want to help him in a time of need provided she could lord it over him later, which she did as frequently as possible whenever she was around - which is only one of the reasons why Seifer had a great many hiding places within the Garden.)

He hated knowing he was so indebted to all of them, but he could hardly do anything about it now; he simply kept his head down as much as possible and studied hard and, on the very rare occasions that he was given a mission, did his best to uphold the honor and credibility and pride, etc., of the SeeD name. To tell the truth, it was hardly any better than being the sorceress' lapdog had been, apart from the fact that he got paid for being a SeeD, but (loathe as he was to admit it) if Garden ousted him, he would have absolutely nowhere left to turn. So as much as it pained him, his only option was to keep sucking up to Squall and his cohorts and hope that, in a few decades or so, his face would no longer be recognizable as The Guy Who Tried To Help That Crazy Bitch Destroy The World and he might possibly be able to live a quiet, semi-normal life in some reclusive little town somewhere.

He sighed.

"You know?" Zell said suddenly, jumping back to his feet with a triumphant expression on his face. "Fuck this, I'm gonna go tell her myself. I don't give a shit what happens to _you_," He declared, bouncing on the balls of his feet and then striding for the door. Seifer cut him off, blocking the doorway with his moderately larger frame, hoping that would be enough to hold Zell off for the moment - the gunblader was pretty handy with his fists when he needed to be, but he knew that Zell could whoop his arse if he was really spoiling for a fight.

"Think about this, Dincht."

"I've thought about it. I couldn't give a fuck less if they kick you out. In fact, it would make my day," The instructor announced with a smug grin as he socked Seifer one in the stomach, and then shoved him aside to open the door. "Have a nice life, arsehole!"

"Do you really think," Seifer wheezed - shit, it had been so long since he'd grappled with Zell that he'd forgotten how much power the smaller boy could pack into one punch - and Zell hesitated, not even two paces from the doorway. "That if I get kicked out of here, I won't be beneath dragging you down with me?"

"What?!" Zell hissed, spinning around and marching right back into the dorm, slamming the door shut again behind him. "You wouldn't…"

"You're an instructor, too. Think how much trouble you could be in if it got out that you were sleeping with a student…"

"You are the biggest fuckin' prick-"

"So how about," Seifer went on, straightening up as he finally caught his breath, "Since it benefits us both for this to never get out, we try and find a different solution?"

"Yeah? You got something in mind?" Zell spat, pacing around the room in a fury, and Seifer resisted a smile; even if he hadn't come here for the express purpose of tormenting the other boy, that didn't mean he couldn't take pleasure in it. It was always fun to watch Zell flip out - he was so _animated_ about it, and it was just too easy to ruffle his feathers… although this time, it was understandable that he be distraught; this was his career Seifer was threatening to ruin.

The elder merely shrugged, giving a short, thoughtful sigh. "Give me a minute."

"Oh, where's the genius you're always bragging about now?"

"Why don't you stop flapping your mouth so that I can hear myself think," Seifer bit. Amazingly, Zell followed his instruction - but he didn't cease his frantic pacing, trotting back and forth across the small area of floor not occupied by furniture, occasionally pausing to let out an enthusiastic "Oh!" as if he'd had an idea, but eventually going back to his relentless pacing. As annoying as Zell could be at times - and oh, could he _ever_be annoying when he really put his mind to it - Seifer couldn't help thinking that his boyish energy was rather… adorable. And even as soon as that thought crossed his mind, so did the one that reminded him just who he was thinking these things about… Zell, for fuck's sake! Hadn't he, just hours ago, been more attracted to the idea of suicide than he had been to the other boy?

And then it hit him.

"What th'fuck are you smirking at? Quit it," Zell commanded, watching Seifer with great unease. Seifer ignored him, grinning to himself as he thought on it more… this was probably the best idea he had ever had. Hell, how could he have _not_ thought of this before? The plan was ideal; it would not only get both Quistis and Squall off his back and ensure that they wouldn't be quite so keen on booting him out, but it would thoroughly humiliate Zell in the process - of course, if he didn't pull it off just so, Seifer himself could end up crawling out of the ordeal with his dignity hanging by a thread, but that was a risk he would just have to be willing to take.

"Man!" Zell exclaimed, crossing the room to jab Seifer lightly in the shoulder. "Quit that friggin' creepy grinning! What're you on about?"

"I have the perfect plan," He announced smugly. Zell's eyes lit up in excitement, and he bounced closer to the taller boy.  
"So what is it?"

"Let's be friends," Seifer proclaimed. Zell stared at him, big blue eyes wide with incredulity - and Seifer couldn't help but be a little disappointed by how utterly put-off the other boy seemed by this suggestion. He didn't have to look so, well, _offended_, did he?

"_That's_ your plan?" He said, the disbelief in his voice bordering on astonishment. "That's fucking terrible! Why the hell would I want to be friends with you?"

"Let me rephrase that," The gunblader amended. "Let's _pretend_ to be friends. Better?"

"Are you shitting me? How is that a plan?"

"Just trust me on this one, Chicken-wuss. I'm not sayin' act all buddy-buddy or anything. Just do what I say and it'll work."

Zell looked less than convinced. "I fail to see how pretending to be friends is going to prove to Quistis that we're _not_ fucking. Seems kinda counter-productive, don't it?"

"First of all," Seifer replied as a cold shiver ran down his spine, "I never, _ever_ want to hear you utter that phrase again. And second, it's not necessary for you to understand. Just follow orders."

"Fuck you! Just come up with something better!" Zell seethed, throwing another punch at Seifer's shoulder, which was still aching from the last slug the martial artist had bestowed on him. Shit, the boy didn't know his own strength - not that Seifer thought he would pull his punches even if he did.

"You hit me again and I'm not going to bother trying to bail your arse out of this."

"You said you had a plan! And 'let's be friends' is _not_ a fuckin' plan! Explain to me how the fuck being friends is supposed to solve this shit."

"I would, but I'm not sure I know enough small words," Seifer bit back, but with little venom. Zell flared up at this, but he let the comment pass by without remarking on it, beginning to pace again. _Just can't fuckin' sit still,_ Seifer thought to himself in annoyance.

"Why _me_, Seifer?" Zell snarled suddenly, waving his arms wildly as if to emphasize the depth of his anger. "Why'd you come crawlin' into _my_ fucking room?"

"I was drunk, remember?" Seifer snapped.

"Yeah, so?"

"So, as is usually the case with drunk people, I wasn't entirely in control of my actions," The gunblader went on, punctuating his words slowly as though he was talking to a child. This answer didn't assuage Zell any - in fact, it seemed to only amplify his anger; Seifer thought he looked about to boil over.

"Alright, and that made you feel the need to climb into my bed, why?"

"Uh, again, can I plead drunk?" Seifer scoffed disdainfully, although secretly he was quite embarrassed about that particular fact, but he felt secure that Zell could never pick up on something like that. "Rest assured that if I had been in a state of mind even _resembling_ sobriety, I certainly would not have picked _you_ to curl up next to for the night."

He watched with some pleasure as Zell visibly shuddered, the red of his blush washing out into a very fetching shade of pink, which Seifer could only assume was due to embarrassment. "You're the one who said not to talk about that!"

"I'm talking about sleeping. You were talking about fucking."

"It's all the same! _Anything_ that involves being within ten feet of you makes me physically ill." Zell insisted, slumping onto the bed again. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and he glared at Seifer with a fury the older boy hadn't seen the likes of since that terrible (and, from Seifer's point of view, quite amusing) week when the cafeteria missed a shipment of hot dogs and Zell had to be restrained from going postal on the lunch lady who had broken the news to him. Although Seifer had to admit, the dusky hue that was spreading over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose was quite becoming. Mortification suited him much better than thoughtfulness, even if Seifer had no idea what the idiot had to be embarrassed about - _he_ wasn't the one who had gotten trashed and done Hyne knows what the night previous.

Seifer peered thoughtfully at him. "Are you homophobic, Dincht?"

"No!" Zell replied vehemently, the forcefulness of his response surprising Seifer just a little. He added suspiciously, "Why, should I be? Are you a homo?"

"No. Are you?"

"No!" Zell leapt off the bed. Seifer sighed, finding himself growing irritated with the boy's antics, amusing though they were.

"What? Not like it's an illogical conclusion to make. Considering how worked up you're getting over this whole fucking deal, I figured you were either homophobic, or gay yourself." He remarked coolly. At once, Zell jumped toward him, finally at his limit, grabbing Seifer by the front of his coat and throwing the door open with the other hand. Seifer didn't bother to fight back as he was flung out the door - there wasn't much he could have done in any case; he could tell just by the absolutely effortless way Zell tossed him into the hallway that the younger boy was still junctioned, and as much as Seifer hated to admit it, although he was_almost_ a match for Zell in hand-to-hand combat when they were both weapon and magic-less, if the other SeeD was junctioned, he didn't stand a chance. Seifer never had a GF of his own; only when he went on missions was he lent one by Garden, and then only if it was something he wasn't likely to be able to handle with his strength alone. Granted, because of that he had trained twice has hard, and he was discernibly stronger than most of his fellow SeeDs without any magic at all, but when it came to bare-handed brute strength, Zell had him beat, and he knew it.

"Stay the fuck outta my room!" The instructor hissed savagely, jabbing a finger into Seifer's thrice-abused shoulder, before he stepped back into his dorm and wrenched the door shut again. He then proceeded to stomp around, kick something, and then punch the wall - or at least that's what it sounded like to Seifer, who still stood outside the door, grinning. He shook his head slightly, reaching forward to type in 1-2-3-4 on the keypad on the wall, and then stepped into the entry of the room.

"Just a hint," He said smugly, simpering as Zell whirled around in a fury to stare at him. "You might want to change your passcode if you don't want every retarded child and large rodent that comes through to be able to enter your room."

"Almasy!"

"Really. 1-2-3-4? Hyne, _anything_ is better than that. Use a date, someone's birthday, something-"

Zell roared, shoving Seifer back through the door, slamming it shut once more. Seifer contemplated opening it again, but only briefly, as it was very likely that Zell would be standing just inside waiting to sock him again, and he didn't much feel like getting his nose broken today. Still, he allowed himself a triumphant grin as he turned and sidled away down the corridor - Zell was already playing perfectly into his plan, and the imbecile didn't even realize it. And what a magnificent plan it was, too.

It was almost a shame he would be leaving for Esthar in just a week…

"Shit," Zell breathed, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. "Fuck. This is so…" He trailed off with a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair.

Fucking Seifer. Just _had_ to come barging into his room, into his life, just at the absolute _wrong_ time. Making him think about things, consider things that not once in the twenty-one years he'd been around had he ever thought about or considered before. Making him suddenly reconsider every fight, every argument, every encounter he'd had with Seifer over the years, every barb he'd taken and every punch he'd thrown, searching for a hint of what he was feeling right now, to see if it was a new development or had always been there, lingering just under his irascible surface.

In the back of his mind, somewhere, Zell already knew the latter was the case. The tension between Seifer and himself was old hat; it was practically a routine, or at least it had been up until the war, after which Seifer had retired from bullying except on the most minimal level, and almost solely toward Zell. At one point, he had been accustomed to fighting with Seifer - physically as well as verbally - at least once or twice a week. But he'd had more interaction with Seifer just today than he had over the past four years.

So he simply wasn't used to dealing with the older boy, that explained all this frustration. He tried working out that logic in his head, but it just didn't pan out; although it was a good theory, it didn't explain why he was half-hard from fighting with the other boy. In fact, he couldn't come up with _any_ theories that explained that to his satisfaction.

He threw himself backwards onto the bed with a loud cry of vexation, pulling the pillow over his face. He wasn't even going to acknowledge the idea that his burgeoning erection might have been _caused_ by… well, no, that was just absurd. He was just so strung out lately, and it had been such a long time since he'd had a good fuck, it was only natural he might get a little worked up when the adrenaline started flowing. Somehow, this rationale didn't make him feel any better.

"Fuck, shit, fuck," He cursed to himself, not knowing anything else to say that could accurately express his pique. He flipped over, burying his face in the pillow, and gripping the edges of the mattress tightly as his hard-on pressed into the bed. He tried unsuccessfully to will it away - he refused to jack off when he considered that his erection had been caused, however indirectly, by Seifer. "This is messed up," He moaned to himself. "So fucking messed up."

Zell pasted on the cheeriest face he could manage before he left his room early Monday morning, and he was glad he had, too, because not even a hundred feet down the corridor he was greeted by Nida as the other boy came out of his own dorm, clutching a thick stack of books in his wiry arms. But even his cheeriest facade was not put on well enough, it seemed, because after the pilot muttered a semi-enthusiastic "Good morning," He paused, a note of concern crossing his expression, and added, "Or isn't it? You look terrible, no offense…"

"Uh, none taken," Zell said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Just couldn't sleep, is all."

"Hmm," Nida replied, apparently not interested. That was one thing Zell liked about Nida; the pilot minded his own business. Or he just didn't really care to hear about Zell's problems, which was more likely, since they weren't particularly close friends. Either way, if he was going to meet someone this early in the morning when he felt so like crap, he would rather it be Nida than any of his other friends; at least he was fairly reassured that the other SeeD didn't have any desire to probe into his personal life. He shot Zell another inquisitive look. "You're working today? I had thought all your classes were done for the semester."

"Oh, yeah," Zell shrugged, casting a glance down at his instructor's blues. "I'm just pickin' up for Quistis. You're not either?" He queried, noting the other boy's civilian clothes. Nida nodded in affirmation, hefting up the pile of books in the crook of his arm.

"I'm off duty for now. I think we're heading out next week, though, so…" He trailed off with an unmotivated shrug. "Wish I could take advantage of the break, but I gotta study…"

"You're still taking classes?"

"Nah, Xu wants me to get my pilot's license." He sounded nonchalant, but Zell noted a hint of displeasure in his tone.

"Is that necessary?"

"Well, she seems to think so." Nida snorted. Zell allowed himself a little chuckle. The brunette went on in a distinctly disgruntled tone of voice, "Never mind that I've been flying this thing around for nearly five fuckin' years. Xu suddenly thinks I need a license, I'm gettin' a fuckin' license." He sighed somewhat dejectedly as they exited the dormitory wing and headed towards the lift. Zell tried not to laugh outright at him; it was always funny to witness the changes in Nida's behavior when he wasn't around Squall, Xu, or Quistis. He wouldn't dare argue a point to Xu's face, but he certainly had no qualms with griping about her as soon as she was out of earshot.

They strolled toward the center of the Garden leisurely; Nida, clearly, had no more desire to get to his studying than Zell did to get to work. It was still early and there were very few students about. They reached the elevator in silence, and then, casting a cursory glance over at the blonde, Nida said tentatively, "So… any particular reason you didn't get any sleep?"

"Eh?" Zell looked up, surprised. "I… just stuff. Work. You know," He stammered, caught off guard by the question. He certainly hadn't expected Nida to ask about it. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh. No reason, really." Nida replied, but there was something decidedly smirky in his tone, something that Zell didn't like.

"Nida, why do you ask?" He repeated more sternly.

"Well…" The pilot paused hesitantly, apparently wondering whether or not it was prudent to tell Zell whatever it was he thought was the reason for his lack of sleep. He went on, with more than just a tinge of curiosity in his words, "Just there was a little rumor that you've had company this weekend, that's all."

"Wh… what?" Zell scoffed, fighting remarkably hard to keep cool, when he suddenly had a strong urge to find Seifer and smash his face into something very solid. Whatever this was, Seifer had to be behind it. "Who'd you hear that from?"

But Nida replied simply, "Quistis," and then shot a quizzical look down at the other boy. "By the way, d'you happen to know why she thinks I smoke?"

Zell didn't respond, chewing his lip in distress. There was a "ding!" to signal the lift, and Nida stepped in, turning and waiting for his friend to join him. Zell did so after a moment's pause, still deep in thought. Damn Quistis. He knew he should have just cleared the matter up with her when he had the chance. Now she thought he and Seifer were fucking - he still shuddered at the thought - and she was going to let little comments slip here and there until everyone was so curious about who Zell was seeing that he blabbed to someone. And the worst part was that he wasn't even seeing anyone! If he _had_ been getting some, it would have at least made the fact that there were rumors about it bearable.

"So?" Nida prompted, jolting Zell out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"Did you?"

Zell peered at the other boy, mildly annoyed. "I don't see how it's any of _your_ business, Nida, but no, I did not, and I have no clue how Quistis got that idea in her head," He said somewhat tersely. He stepped out of the elevator as it opened on the second floor, and Nida followed after a brief shocked pause, a slight frown gracing his expression.

"Sorry, you're right, it isn't my business," He apologized, trotting forward to catch Zell up. "Didn't mean to piss you off or anything."

"Yeah, don't worry about it." Zell flashed a grin, and Nida seemed allayed. "Anyway," He went on, nodding over his shoulder towards the classrooms down the corridor, "I've got to get to class… and you've got to study…"

"Right, I do…" Nida confirmed, glancing down at his books with the merest touch of dismay in his countenance. He seemed to remember something, and looked up again. "Oh, before I forget to tell you, Miri Avandia was looking for you all yesterday. Y'know, she works in the library?"

"Oh, right," Zell said absently. Nida murmured a farewell, and Zell heard himself return it as the pilot shuffled away toward the study center, but his mind was elsewhere - specifically, wandering ambiguously between the two questions that had plagued him all Saturday night and all last night, which is why he'd gotten so little sleep: what was Quistis planning to do with her speculation about Seifer and himself, and what exactly was Seifer's so-called "plan" to stop her? Well, at least one of the two had been answered just now, although given the turn of events, he'd have rather not even known.

He had to wonder just how many people she had chirped this little bit of gossip to before she'd left for Timber last night - it seemed that, since all the people Zell was somewhat close to were currently away, she had turned to acquaintances; her having told Nida was proof of that. Selphie was in Trabia, Irvine was in Galbadia, Rinoa was in Timber - but Zell was fairly certain that the instructor would find some way to get the information to her during her stay - and Squall wouldn't give a shit, so there'd be no point in her telling him. She wouldn't have told Xu; that would be like a death sentence on Zell's head, and really, that only left… Seifer himself. Even though he and the gunblader were only close in the vast realms of Quistis' overactive imagination.

He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Seifer since Saturday night - not that he was ungrateful for that. He could go quite happily for the rest of his life without meeting that bastard again. But he couldn't help but think that Seifer was up to something; what, he had no idea, but he didn't like it all the same. Maybe Seifer had realized that the best way to defuse Quistis' suspicion over their relationship was to just stay the fuck away from Zell, and that definitely seemed a good plan in Zell's reckoning. He had probably just been trying to piss Zell off that night, being his usual prickish self; otherwise, how could pretending to be friends be a plan for anything? It was ridiculous, and furthermore, it was retarded; Zell was hard put to believe that Seifer could plausibly feign amiability toward him any more than he could toward Seifer - more likely they'd only end up fighting even more if they tried.

He chewed his thumb as he entered Quistis' classroom, where a few diligent cadets were already seated at their computers, raptly engaged in their studies. Two students looked surprised as he arrived and glanced at each other in disappointment; no doubt they had been expecting Quistis and hoping to win a little credit with their teacher by coming in early - Zell had played at the same effort when he was on the verge of failing a course or two back in his student days. Repressing a smile, he sat down behind the desk and pulled a sheaf of papers from one of the many folders Quistis had given him, pretending to be busy as he waited for the rest of the class to trickle in - but his mind was still whirling around the two problems that he just couldn't think of a solution to, although he continued to ponder it until the bell rang for class, after he had taken attendance, and throughout the whole of the movie he played on the history of the Shumi tribe. And two and a quarter hours later, as the students were filing out of the classroom (looking marginally happier than Zell thought he'd ever seen any of Quistis' students look after a class,) he still had come up with nothing.

Trouble was, thinking had never really been Zell's strong point - oh, he was much smarter than most people gave him credit for; he'd passed all the exams he'd had to take to become an instructor with ease, and even back when he was a cadet, his problems with classes had been more in the line of sleeping through them or skipping them in lieu of more amusing pasttimes (i.e., eating and fighting) than not having the intellectual capacity to pass them. But plan-making was not his forte. Squall was a planner, Zell was just a follower. He just couldn't think of any way to mediate his situation without one of three results: a) his reputation and, consequently, his job going down the toilet, b) Seifer getting the boot and slandering him in revenge and, consequently, his job going down the toilet, or c) people thinking they were fucking. Unless he just bit the bullet, told Quistis the truth, and hoped (or begged) that she didn't throw Seifer out. But that last option just didn't appeal to him very much.

Zell had never more ardently wished that all his friends hadn't been deployed out of Garden - he really needed someone's advice, although even if they were all here, he had no idea who he might turn to. For matters of business, he usually turned to Quistis; personal matters, he generally went to Selphie or, lacking the little brunette's presence, Irvine. But this matter was neither personal nor business - what he needed right now was cunning, and tact, and guile…

He jumped straight out of his chair, grinning from ear to ear. He knew exactly to whom to turn... 


	4. Chapter 4

Seifer managed a genuine smile as he stepped off the train in Esthar, blinded by the brilliant blue of the sky. Fuck, was it ever nice to be out of Garden - and, more importantly, far removed from four of the five people that annoyed him the most (who were, in respective order, Quistis, Zell, Rinoa, and Squall; the fifth on the list was Odine, but Seifer was clinging to the hope that, as his mission in Esthar was basically to pick up Fuujin and Raijin and escort them back home, he wouldn't have to suffer seeing the creepy little man for any prolonged length of time.) There were only a handful of passengers descending from the train with him; for most of the others, this was only a pit stop on their way further north toward Trabia. It had only been a half dozen months since Esthar had opened up its station again and began running lines through, and people were still, frankly, quite wary of the strange, secluded nation, despite the president's efforts to open his city to the world.

Hauling his duffel up over his shoulder, Seifer looked around the small platform to see who was there to pick him up, and he spotted three pleasantly familiar faces - Fuujin, Raijin, and Kiros, one of the president's aides. Seifer rather liked Kiros, although they'd only met a few times; he was always very cool and collected and he always seemed to know exactly what needed to be done. The gunblader breathed a silent sigh of relief that Laguna himself hadn't come out to pick him up - even with his two best friends there as a buffer, Seifer wasn't sure he could tolerate the president's company without wanting to slice something up. Not that he_could_ - Squall kept Hyperion under lock and key unless Seifer needed it for a mission or training, damn him - but the urge would no doubt lead him to do something unseemly.

He crossed the platform to join the trio, ignoring Raijin's loud, exuberant, and highly unnecessary shouts of his name - as if he couldn't see them; Rai himself was large enough to be a beacon in the middle of any crowd, and against the backdrop of the glaringly deserted station, his massive frame stood out like a bruise. Fuujin was standing back and to one side, looking as though she could think of nothing that would give her more pleasure than punching Raijin in the back of his head just then, and if she hadn't been representing Garden and acting ambassador in a foreign country that didn't look kindly on violence - especially from people who still, from time to time, had to struggle to convince the world that they were reformed after the war - Seifer was sure she would have punished him duly. He knew what she was thinking - the last thing they wanted to do was to call any unneeded attention to him; being a representation of all things sorceress related as he was, the people of Esthar didn't exactly welcome Seifer with open arms. Kiros, on the other hand, looked entirely at ease, possibly even _amused_, which led Seifer to believe that Fuu's calm and collected air was a recent affectation, probably put on for his benefit, and he smiled. The lady was a viper marauding as a mouse; she was hardly fooling anybody, but Seifer wasn't going to be the one to tell her that.

"Good to see some friendly faces," He said dryly as he approached, and Fuujin graced him with a flash of a smile, turning her back to the other two men for the moment it took her to display it to him. Then she slipped her poker face back on like the well-fitting mask it was, offering him the standard-issue military greeting that befitted a representative of their institution, but for whose sake Seifer had no clue, since the station was empty save for the four of them, none of whom gave a shit about formalities when there was no one around to impress. Raijin didn't bother with such decorum; taking a few lumbering steps toward Seifer, he engulfed the blonde in a bear hug fit to crush the very breath out of him, until Fuu intervened with a swift, discreet kick in the arse. _It's nice to know some things never change,_ Seifer thought to himself as he was grudgingly released, and he smirked as he righted himself, straightening the lapels of his coat.

"Seifer," Kiros greeted him with a short bow, and Seifer returned the welcome with a somewhat haphazard salute. "It's nice to have you back in Esthar."

"You're one of the few who would say that," Seifer replied offhandedly. Fuujin, beside him, shot a glare up at him that suggested he keep his attitude in check, or he would be finding out just how little had changed when it came to the punishments she doled out. Clearing his throat, Seifer went on but slightly awkwardly, "What've you two been up to, then? How was the, err… conference?"

"Boring," Raijin piped up, receiving for his efforts at wit a sharp elbow in the stomach.

"Interesting," Fuu substituted, folding her hands behind her back and making a very good show of being demure, while her partner clutched his gut and wheezed for breath doubled over behind her. Despite himself, Seifer found a grin creeping up over his lips, a bubble of - could it be? Yes, it just might - _happiness_ swelling up in his core; truth was, he could never hide himself from Fuujin and Raijin, and being separated for such lengths of time from the two of them, the only two people in the world who really _knew_ him, had taken more of a toll on him than he ever thought if just seeing them for the first time in many months could inspire anything close to joy in him. Not that he felt the need to display those particular sentiments physically in the form of a great, big, sloppy hug, like some others; Fuu and Rai both knew how he felt toward them, and that was quite enough.

Fuujin was peering upward at him with one piercing, red eye. "And you? Keeping busy?" She asked in her usual placid tone of voice, which Seifer mentally translated as, "Is Squall finally letting you do some real work, or still just fucking you around with pissy little nowhere missions?" And as the only real reason he had been sent to Esthar had less to do with him accompanying his two friends on their trip back and more to do with Quistis and Squall being sick of having him lurking around Garden all the time, he decided on going with a very generic affirmative as his answer for the sake of not provoking any retaliation on her part - she wouldn't admit to doing it, but if she got wind that Squall and his cronies were causing Seifer any distress, Hyne help whoever got caught in the path of her vengeance.

"You know me, always busy," He offered with a smile. She clearly wasn't satisfied with this bluff of an answer, but she seemed to realize that out in public was not the place for them to be discussing his gripes with a certain commander and let the comment slip by - _for now,_ Seifer thought to himself. Kiros, standing off to the side, was looking between the two of them as if to inquire if they were through making small talk, and he stepped forward now, quietly clearing his throat.

"If you're ready to head to the palace, the car is waiting," He said mildly, gesturing behind him to the dark, shiny car that was idling just outside the entrance to the station. Seifer nodded and turned to confirm this assent with the other two, Fuujin still visually probing him as if she were trying to read his thoughts, and the small group exited the terminal and boarded the chauffer-driven car - a nice little luxury cruiser, too, Seifer noted with a measure of approval, not the type of car he would have expected that drip of a president to have - and they took off in the direction of the Presidential suite, Fuu and Rai joining him in the expansive back seat while Kiros rode shotgun. Seifer relaxed a little while they were on the road, stretching out his legs, expecting his two companions to bombard him with questions about how Garden was treating him now that they had a degree of privacy, separated from Kiros and the driver by a darkly-tinted partition that the president's aide had slid shut shortly after they departed from the train station. But apparently, whatever Fuujin had to say to him, she wasn't going to risk saying until they could be assured complete seclusion, because she wasn't talking, merely staring at him as though trying to project her thoughts into his head, and Raijin wasn't talking at all - hadn't spoken once since Seifer arrived, he belatedly realized - which was fucking weird in itself… or perhaps not, considering the daggers Fuujin had been staring at him earlier; Seifer wouldn't have been surprised if she threw a silence on him just to keep him from nattering away at her for the whole trip.

He didn't question it, thought - not just yet. Instead he reclined, kicking his legs up on the bench seat opposite him (and ignoring the look of scathing disdain he received from Fuu at this glaring breach of etiquette,) and closed his eyes, deciding to enjoy the silence while he had the chance. Hyne knows it never lasted long.

Zell glanced over at the clock on the mantle above his bed for the seventh time in the past minute, probably the seven hundredth time in the last hour, and he didn't even want to think about how many times it had been since he'd woken up at the crack of dawn, some three and a half hours before. He wondered for a stupid moment if the clock wasn't broken, because he could swear he'd been sitting at his computer desk for at least two days now; but of course time was going to seem to pass much more slowly if he was looking at the clock every five seconds. It was nearing nine a.m. - the library had been open for a good fifty minutes now, but the question was, was Carmina going to be there? He chewed the end of his red pen, aimlessly shuffling the stack of papers he had meant to begin grading when he sat down but which remained as hopelessly ungraded as they had been for the whole of the week and would probably remain so for some time, if the state of turmoil his mind was currently in didn't abate in the near future.

He knew she worked every Tuesday, but he didn't know what hours she kept, and it was imperative that there should be as few people as possible around when he arrived, both to ensure that Carmina would have time to talk to him and that their conversation wouldn't be overheard. Or was he being too overcautious? There had been a foreboding sense of paranoia lingering over him for the past week, and it seemed as though people were staring at him a good deal more than they normally did, especially whenever Seifer was around, but maybe it was all in his head. Of course, Seifer had left for Esthar just yesterday, and the thought that he had a whole week without having to worry about the gunblader popping up somewhere nearby - and he _had_ been doing quite a lot of that over the last few days; randomly showing up in unexpected places almost as if specifically to catch Zell off guard - made Zell feel significantly better; the paranoia, however, still loitered around in the back of his mind somewhere, much in the same manner that Seifer himself loitered in the background wherever Zell went, not openly provoking him, but taunting him just by presence.

Maybe he was overthinking things - contrary to some people's beliefs, it was something he did all too often. The only person, really, who had actually _said_ anything about this supposed rumor going around was Nida, and that a whole week ago - it just _seemed_ like there was something going on, that people were whispering, watching, _waiting_ for him to give something away - which was certainly part of Quistis' plan. Or maybe it was Seifer's doing - trying to turn him against himself. _Shit, I really do sound like a loony,_ He thought dismally to himself.

He stood up from the desk resolutely, throwing down his pen. It would have to be now or never - if he sat around much longer debating with himself whether or not people really believed he was sleeping with Seifer, he was going to lose his nerve. He tossed a hoodie over his head, ruffling the hair he hadn't, for a rare once, bothered to style up, and at the last second on his way out the door, grabbed a random library book off the ever-growing stack of them next to his nightstand, just in case Carmina wasn't there and he needed some excuse at hand for dropping by.

The corridors were quiet as he strolled through the unusually empty school - until he remembered that it was nine a.m. in the middle of the week; most of the students would be in class or training sessions. This brightened Zell's spirits somewhat, and he made it across Garden to the library with minimal encounters, finding it - to his great pleasure - just about empty; there was a lone underclassman studying assiduously in the back, but no one else save for the young woman crouched behind the counter stacking returns… the young woman with a long, dark ponytail… _Damn,_ Zell stopped in the doorway, wondering if it wasn't too late to turn and bolt, because not only was Carmina nowhere in sight, but the very last person that he _did_ want to talk to _was_ - but, shit, too late now; Miri had just straightened up and looked right at him, flashing a cheery grin and waving him over, and over he did go, striving to emulate jollity, but he was hard put to paste a grin on his face. Miri, though certainly a nice girl, just didn't possess that flair for cunning and deviltry that was what he had come to Carmina for.

"Good morning, Zell!" She chirped sunnily. "You're here early…?"

He held up his borrowed book as an excuse, and Miri nodded understandingly as she took it from him and scanned it back into the system, tucking it neatly into the cart of returns she had been organizing when Zell came in. "Carmina says you were looking for me last weekend?" She said perkily as she turned back toward him, her question effectively shooting down Zell's plan of retreating from the library just as quickly as he'd come. He leaned against the counter, trying to appear cool and casual.

"Yeah, I dropped in…" He paused, thinking fast. "…I was going to ask about a book. But she helped me out fine."

"Oh, okay," She replied, grinning so brightly Zell wished he'd been wearing sunglasses. "Sorry about that, then, I convinced her to pick up my hours so I could visit my boyfriend…"

Zell nodded, attempting not to look as completely uninterested in the subject of Miri's boyfriend as he really was. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone new," He said after a short moment of silence, spurred on by the brunette's obvious desire to tell him all about it, and not for the first time recently, Zell thought he was being too damn nice for his own good. Sure, it's not like he and Miri had ever been particularly serious about their relationship, and they had managed to remain very good friends even after it went to pot, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear all the grisly details about her new beau, and judging by the blissful and obliviously rapturous grin on her pretty face, she was gearing up for a nice, long speech on just that subject.

She gave a dreamy sort of sigh, managing to look both wicked and bashful in the same instant as she said, "Well… it's a new development. Last weekend was our first date, actually, but it's gone so well…"

"Mm-hmm," Zell mumbled. _Of course_ it was going well - everyone was happy and in love except him, natch. Miri went on, euphorically unaware of Zell's discomfort with the subject.

"I wish we didn't have to leave FH so soon," She said with a small pout. "I caught Nida yesterday morning, and he said we're headed for Timber next, and I guess we're going to stay in that area for quite a while…"

"Right," Zell said, cutting in while she took a pause for breath. "Hey, err, you wouldn't happen to know where Carmina _is_ today, would you…?"

A small frown creased Miri's delicate brow at this unexpected change of subject. "No, I picked up her shift today since she let me have that afternoon off last week, but I don't know where she's at…" She gave a sly half-smile, cocking an eyebrow at Zell with an expression he couldn't quite make out. She added, her tone the very model of deviousness, "Why, did you come all the way down here just looking for her?"

"It's not like… no…" Zell sighed, ruffling his hair agitatedly as he leaned against the counter. "I just… needed her input on something… a girl's opinion. Y'know."

Miri scoffed, as if in shock at his declaration, gesturing disgruntledly at herself as though to say, "And what am I, a grat?" and Zell quickly backpedaled, shaking his head, elaborating, "No, that's not what I meant… I just… I was looking for someone a little more, I dunno… _evil_… and Carmina, you know…"

The brunette looked even more affronted at this, as though she was seriously offended that Zell didn't think she could be as conniving as her friend, and she leaned over the counter toward him, folding her arms resolutely over her chest as she stared him down in what was clearly a challenge, merely stating, "Try me."

Zell didn't speak for a few moments; he wasn't entirely certain that he _did_ want to try her. Then again, what could it really harm? Miri had proven many times over that she was more than trustworthy - she was, in fact, probably the only person that Zell trusted implicitly and he was confident that she would keep whatever he decided to spill to herself. That she might be able to produce a solution to his dilemma, however, Zell wasn't so positive; however you put it, Miri was a sweet girl, and she just didn't have the devious nature Carmina did. But maybe he was underestimating her. "It's just… I'm having a bit of a problem with someone lately…"

"Oh, does this have to do with that rumor that's been going around?" Miri trilled.

Zell sighed again, jaw clenched. He glanced around over his shoulder. "Here, can we go in the back, just…?" He said quietly, gesturing toward a secluded corner in the rear of the library, and Miri nodded understandingly and followed him over. They commandeered two plush chairs and sat secretively in the corner, and Zell pondered just how to phrase his quandary while she waited patiently.

"Okay, so, err…" He began, scratching his chin. "So exactly what is this rumor you've heard…?"

"I don't know, it's just… It's been going around that you're seeing somebody in Garden…" She hummed in a sing-song voice, her tone thick with curiosity. "I admit I've been wondering about it myself…"

"Well, damn," Zell muttered gravely under his breath. He should have known - rumors went through Garden faster than the damn flu. At least, to his immense relief, she'd made no mention of Seifer in the same breath, which could only be a good sign.

"So… it's just a rumor?" Miri prompted.

"You sound disappointed?"

"Well," She shrugged, cocking her head to the side. "I guess… I was thinking it would be nice if you had found someone… if you don't mind my saying so."

"No, it's fine," Zell replied with a wave, too preoccupied with the rumor situation to be fully impressed by the sweetness of her sentiment. "It's… alright, what happened was, this, this person, last weekend, got really drunk and ended up barging into my room and, y'know, staying. Not like, I mean, nothing _happened_, but this… someone else found out, and they _think_ that something happened, and… now this. So." He finished wearily, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Miri was staring.

"Okay, I think I've got it all," She said uncertainly, looking thoughtful. "Seifer spent the night in your room, and someone thinks you're fucking and now there's rumors. That right?"

Zell was speechless, mouth agape. Miri laughed, a cheery tinkle, and continued, "Oh come on, Zell, it's not like it was that hard to figure out. Whoever barged into your room had to have _access_ to your room, and since guys' and girls' dorms are restricted, it had to be a guy, right? And last weekend was the big graduation banquet, and everyone knows the only person who gets shitfaced at those parties is Seifer. Please, do you think I'm stupid?"

"Well, fuck, who else knows about this?" He hissed, leaning forward close to her.

Miri shook her head, her ponytail swinging around her neck. "Everyone I know thinks you're fucking Mina, so no worries there. I think Seifer's the last person anyone would suspect you to be with."

"But I'm not _with_ anybody!" Zell cried, forgetting for a moment where he was - thankfully, the library was their own now; the one solitary cadet who had been studying in the far corner when he arrived had long since left, and Zell was eternally grateful for it. Lowering his voice, he went on, "Alright, I don't really care about everyone else - Quistis is the one I need to convince I'm not fucking Seifer. How the hell do I do that?"

Miri gave a gentle sigh, shrugging again, reclining in her chair as she adopted a thoughtful expression. "Mina always says there's two ways to defuse a rumor: either prove it true, or prove it false."

"Well, how the fuck do I do either of those?!" Zell groaned in frustration, throwing his hands into the air. How did one go about proving a rumor like that false? Going around denying it would only make matters worse, and Zell was fairly certain that he would have no help whatsoever from Seifer on that ground - hell, the gunblader would likely try and make things worse just out of spite. Zell supposed he could try and find a girlfriend, but Quistis would only think it was a cover up (and it would be one, too.) There was still the chance that if he simply went to Quistis and explained the whole thing, she'd admit she was mistaken and that would be it - but it _was_ true that Seifer was on the rocks with her and Squall lately, and if his drunken exploits turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back, Zell was afraid he would carry out his threat to take the martial artist down with him… plus, there was the matter of the lying he'd already done to cover up Seifer's presence in his room; and with his luck, Quistis would only be _more_ convinced that he was trying to hide something between them. Going to her would have to be Plan B.

"Um," Miri said, interrupting Zell's whirling thoughts as she sat forward, a small grin playing her lips. "If you don't mind… Is it really that bad?"

Zell shook his head. "Is what?"

"Quistis thinking… you know." It took him a moment to realize what she meant, but he hardly had time to be horrified by the idea that people thinking him and Seifer were fucking was even _remotely_ okay before Miri hurriedly added, "I mean, it's not like… Seifer's not really attractive, in his own way…"

"I don't give a shit if he's the fucking hottest guy in Garden, it's _Seifer_!" Zell hissed, and heat flooded into his cheeks as he realized he'd just admitted he found Seifer hot - what the hell was _wrong_ with him lately? - but Miri didn't seem to have noticed it; she was looking somewhat apologetic, and appeared to have realized her mistake, shrugging sheepishly.

"I'm just saying. I don't like the guy, I think he's a total arsehole, but… I mean, given the chance, _I_ wouldn't say no."

"Listen, I know what you mean," Zell cut in, holding up a hand to silence her, his head spinning. _Fuck, did I really just say I would do Seifer if given the chance?_ "If it was anybody else in the Garden, I wouldn't really care. I'd just let the fuckin' rumors die out. It's just…"

He stopped, drawing a complete blank on how to continue. What was he even trying to say? The problem was not just that it was Seifer they were talking about, but he was a fellow SeeD, a fellow _man_… any one of the above, Garden administration might have been willing to overlook, but certainly not all three, especially from an instructor, someone who was supposed to be a role model… He groaned in vexation, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Miri was watching him with considerable concern, and when he looked up, she offered him her most reassuring smile - a good effort, but it hardly made him feel better at this point. Hell, short of Seifer spontaneously combusting or Quistis admitting that she was wrong about something - both occurrences that weren't going to happen in a million years - nothing was going to make him feel better. He sighed.

"The problem is," He began to explain, slumping down in his chair wearily. "Seifer's on thin ice right now with administration, and if I tell them what really happened, they're going to kick him out, and he's made it clear that he'll be dragging me down with him if that happens. Otherwise I would just go explain what really fucking happened, that he got trashed and passed out on my bathroom floor. And, I," He gave a weak little laugh, rubbing his tired eyes, "I think, for some reason, he _wants_ people to think we're fucking. He wants to make this worse, fuck knows why. I've got no fuckin' clue what to do…"

"Weeelll…" Miri started, but trailed off in defeat, clearly at as much of a loss as Zell himself was in the face of this information. Then, hesitantly, she proffered, "Are you sure you're not overestimating Seifer?"

"What do you mean?"

The brunette paused again before speaking, giving a slight grimace, as though she was wary Zell wouldn't like what she had to say, but after a moment she began, "It seems to me like… although he doesn't like being here… I don't think Seifer really wants to _leave_… so it stands to reason that he'd want to keep this whole thing quiet just as much as you do…" She tapered off again, and Zell prompted her on with a pointed stare, sitting up in his chair. Shaking her head, she finished, "Did you consider that he might just be bluffing?"

Zell thought about it for a minute. "But why? What's the point?"

"I don't know. Maybe he has some hidden agenda. Don't ask me to try and explain Seifer's mind," She gave a short laugh, and then a heavy sigh. "It just seems like this is a lot of work for him to go through without having _some_ kind of other motive."

"Yeah… tormenting me," Zell whimpered, falling back in his seat, defeated. For what other reason did Seifer ever do anything? The gunblader had been keeping a low profile for the past four years; he had to make a return to bullying sometime, and he'd chosen a damn fine to do it, too. What other motive could he have for being such a jackass?

A bell chimed in the distance, and Miri leaped to her feet. "Shit," She exclaimed, grabbing her armchair and shoving it back under the desk she'd stolen it from. "I didn't realize it was so late. Sorry, Zell, I've gotta get back to work," She explained, shooing him out of his seat and across the library, hands aflutter. "Listen… if you come up with anything, be sure to let me know, alright sweetie?"

She flashed him a saccharine smile as she backed him into the doorway, and then promptly pushed him out into the throng of students surging down the corridor before he could even open his mouth to utter a reply. He fought for a moment against the tide before letting it sweep him away down the hall, and he wandered aimlessly through the current for a while as all the students milled their way to their next classes, his mind thick with thoughts. The talk with Miri hadn't produced a solution of any kind to Zell's predicament, but it had helped him to think a little clearer all the same - and given him some surprising insight into his own image of Seifer; he had never, for instance, even considered the idea that Seifer might have been bluffing or that he might have some other motive besides the obvious of making Zell suffer. That line of thought certainly deserved a little more deliberation, he decided, but not just now; some other time, when his mind was easier and he could spend some real time ruminating on it. Trying to attempt any serious thinking with the state his head was in right now just wasn't going to pan out; he needed to get moving, to work out some of this restless energy first, and there was, of course, only one place to do that.

_Still no plan, though_, Zell thought grimly to himself as he redirected toward the training center, weaving through the thinning crowd of students to make his way around the campus. Oh well - he did still have a few days to prepare before Seifer returned from Esthar, and if worst came to worst and he was still drawing a blank by then, he supposed he could always fall back on his old standby, and beat the truth out of Seifer - although the repercussions that line of action promised were somewhat worrying, so that would have to be the last resort. In the meantime, he'd just have to do his best to stay out of Seifer's way and not give the gunblader any ammunition that could end up backfiring on him later… sounded good in theory, but could he successfully pull it off? _Well, no use worrying about it right now,_ he thought resolutely, _just have to wait and see what happens..._


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright. Uh-huh." Quistis nodded, mostly to herself as the person on the other end of the line couldn't see it, squinting up into the midday sun. "Understood. See you," She finished, snapping shut the mobile phone with a quiet sigh. She tossed her hair into the warm, salty breeze sweeping in over the beach, and then turned around and ambled lazily across the boardwalk to the pavilion where a cluster of little tables sat under a lopsided awning, pulling out a wicker chair across from the other young woman waiting there. "Well, they should be arriving within the hour. Nida's just made contact with the advance from Timber."

"Right on schedule," Rinoa hummed, sipping from a tall glass of lemonade. She gave a contented sort of sigh, leaning back in her seat. "Good old Nida."

Quistis laughed. "Good old Xu is more like it, isn't it? That boy would never get anything accomplished without her there kicking his arse to do it."

"Yeah, true." The brunette chuckled in response, casting her gaze out over the promenade, a few dozen other locals sitting out at the various cafes and restaurants that dotted the pier and enjoying the weather, her eyes lingering on the small gang of toddlers kicking around a weathered ball in the surf. Smiling fondly to herself, she went on, "I guess some things will never change, no matter how long I'm away."

The instructor offered an appreciative chuckle, and they both lapsed into silence. Quistis spun her phone round on the tabletop idly. She had never felt particularly close to Rinoa - not as close as she felt to the rest of their gang, with the bond that they all shared - and she couldn't be entirely comfortable knowing just how much unseen power lurked beneath the other girl's airy exterior, kept in check only by a few skillfully crafted trinkets of Odine's. Not to mention she'd always found Rinoa somewhat, well, annoying - although, despite the little she'd seen of the young sorceress over the past few years, she could tell that Rinoa had matured a great deal in that time - both circumstances that didn't much encourage any affection on the blonde's end. However, she was beginning to regret that she hadn't made any effort toward friendship in those years now, as she sat in awkward silence with the other girl, racking her brain for a conversation topic. Luckily, just a few moments after she had given up, Rinoa spoke again, sitting forward but with her eyes still lingering on the group of children playing on the beach below.

"So… how's the gang?" She chirped, her question laced with the merest hint of forced jollity, which Quistis cheerily ignored - she couldn't, after all, fault Rinoa for not liking her when she herself had spent the better part of the past five years determinedly ignoring the fact that Rinoa existed.

"The gang?" She repeated quizzically. Rinoa cocked her head to one side, thoughtful.

"You know. Everyone," the brunette shrugged. "Squall?"

Quistis gave a soft chuckle. "You probably talk to him more often than I do, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but it's not like he really… like… _tells_ me stuff. You know how it is," Rinoa said, heaving an exasperated sigh, and the elder's smile widened just a bit. Yes, she knew how it was - and it was somewhat refreshing to find that even Rinoa hadn't managed to break Squall of his reticence; it was reassuring, somehow, to know that his gruffness was universal and not directed solely at any particular individuals. She nodded knowingly.

"And, what, you think he'd tell me stuff?"

"Well… no," The sorceress laughed, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her eyes. "I guess not. Are things running smoothly, at least?"

Quistis shrugged. "As smoothly as they ever have, I suppose. All the students really look up to him, though, so there are never any serious problems." She paused thoughtfully. "Except…"

"Hmm?"

"No, nothing." _Except Seifer,_ the instructor thought to herself, but she shook her head and Rinoa seemed content to drop it. It wasn't really an appropriate subject for such a casual meeting as theirs, anyway - just something that had been on Quistis' mind lately… indeed, something she hadn't been able to get _off_ her mind for quite some time. It's not like she was exactly worried, or anything, but there was definitely a note of concern to be had, which was one of the reasons she had suggested letting Seifer go to Esthar for a few days, hoping that a brief vacation might just cheer the gunblader up a bit - Hyne knows she wasn't the only person who was sick of seeing him brooding around the Garden in that perpetually gloomy state of his. Not that Seifer had ever been a particularly cheery sort of person, of course, but after his return at the end of the war, his depression had more or less plateaued, until a month or so ago when his mood seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. And if Quistis wasn't worried about Seifer's mental health, she could at least be worried about the safety of the rest of Garden; docile as he'd been over the past few years, she wasn't entirely certain he was to be trusted.

She couldn't help but wonder what Seifer really _was_ doing at Garden… she'd assumed he only came back after the war ended because he had no place else to return to, but it was painfully obvious that he didn't _want_to be there, so why stay? _Because no one else will have him,_ she concluded glumly - that was one of the reasons Squall had in the end decided to give him a place in Garden; the other was mainly a security issue - damage limitation, as the commander had so diplomatically put it - Seifer needed to be kept under supervision, he needed to be somewhere neutral, where he wouldn't be condemned for his past actions, so that maybe he could heal and grow. At least, that's what Quistis tended to tell herself; the bottom line was that as long as Seifer was going to refuse to cooperate with their efforts to rehabilitate him, he was going to remain a prisoner of Garden, and that would certainly make anyone depressed, wouldn't it?

But lately… Quistis sighed, her thoughts turning over and over in her mind. Lately, something was going on. She was sure of it. Seifer was up to something - and Zell was in on it, whatever it was. She didn't honestly think the two of them were sleeping together - the very idea was too strange to even consider - but they were most definitely hiding something, and she was going to find out what it was if it killed her.

"Selphie?" Rinoa interrupted her train of thought suddenly with this inquiry, and it took Quistis a minute to return to reality. She shook her head to try and clear her mind, as if to dispel any thoughts of Seifer and Zell and any schemes they might be plotting behind her back, and tried to focus on what Rinoa was saying now - what was she saying again?

"Sorry?"

"I asked how Selphie was doing?" The brunette repeated.

"Oh," Quistis blinked. "Fine, last I heard. You know how she is, never a bad day."

"Yes, I suppose," Rinoa laughed. "Well, what about Zell?"

"He's…" The instructor stopped, frowning. She had been about to say that he was fine, but now that she put some thought into it, she was fairly certain that he wasn't. The last few times she'd seen him, he had looked distinctly melancholy, despite the valiant effort he put into keeping up a front. Was it possible that that had something to do with Seifer, as well?

"He's not fine?" Rinoa prompted when she failed to continue. Quistis bit the corner of her lip in misgiving.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure, to be honest," she said with a short chuckle, giving a shrug. "Now I think about it, out of all of our little group of friends, Zell is the person I see the most, and yet he's the one about whom I know the least."

"But that's not your fault," the young sorceress replied. Quistis cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at this declaration, and Rinoa added in explanation, "Well, Zell keeps things pretty close to heart, doesn't he? Personal things, that is."

"I… I suppose he does that, yeah. I never…"

Rinoa sipped her lemonade, sitting back in her chair, dark hair fluttering in the warm breeze. "It took me a while to figure it out. He seems like he's very open, doesn't he? Always acting real cheerful and cool." She stirred the melting mass of ice cubes in the bottom of the glass with her straw. "But the things that really bother him, he keeps them hidden. He's very guarded, don't you think?"

_No, I never had thought,_ Quistis agonized to herself, but she drew out a tepid smile. "Yes, that's true. I just wish I _did_ know what was wrong. I haven't the heart to ask him outright and ruin all that hard work he's put into appearing cheery."

Rinoa gave a small, bubbly chuckle. "So there is something wrong?"

"I think there is." A quiet pause. "I think he's lonely, actually, but it's not really my place to…"

"It's not? Why not?" The brunette scratched her arm absently, finally breaking her gaze from the troop of toddlers playing down on the sand to meet Quistis' eyes full on. "You're his friend, aren't you?"

Quistis was silent, biting down on her lower lip in lieu of an answer. She was that, wasn't she? It had been a long time since she'd last thought of Zell as a friend - a coworker, a colleague, a fellow SeeD, yes, but when had she last been a _friend_ to him? _No wonder I don't know shit about his personal life,_ she thought morosely. She sighed softly, but before she could even begin to offer up an explanation for this heinous error of judgement on her part, Rinoa sat forward, leaning over the table with a coy smile on her pink lips, and she said, "Listen, there's going to be a big party on the boardwalk tomorrow night. I'm helping to host it. Why don't you bring Zell along? There'll be lots of SeeDs coming, and it might cheer him up a bit… and if all else fails, you can get him drunk and try to force the truth out of him. What do you say?"

The instructor frowned, a note of censure in her tone as she began, "Well… I dunno…" She mulled it over momentarily, weighing her distaste for such unseemly behavior as going to beach parties and getting drunk against her liking for the idea of getting Zell out of the Garden and meeting new people (and possibly squeezing some information out of him after he'd had a few drinks.) The chance was certainly not likely to come up again any time soon - Garden events were generally quite formal; nobody had fun at those parties, and being an instructor, Quistis didn't tend to get invited to any of the students' illegal, after-hours keggers. And after all, who ever said a teacher couldn't break the rules and have some fun every once in a while?

"Dana! Goddamnit!" Rinoa jumped up from her seat, striding over to the edge of the boardwalk and leaning out over the railing. "I told you not to go out into the water like that! Get back here!"

The little redheaded girl giggled, scooping up her ball from the water and trudging back toward the rest of the group, while Rinoa watched, snorting in mild frustration. Quistis bit back a smirk as the brunette, satisfied that her young charges were minding her warning and staying out of the water, returned to her seat, rolling her eyes. "I swear, those kids. They won't listen to anyone except Clara. Drives me fucking nuts. I don't know why I'm stuck watching them, they like Watts _way_ more than me."

"Mmm," Quistis hummed, rising from her chair and pushing it neatly back under the table, gathering her handbag from the deck by her feet and tucking her mobile into one of the pockets. "Well, listen, I've got to head back into town, I have to be there when Garden arrives and they probably won't be more than a half hour. Can I give you a lift back?"

Rinoa shook her head, swiping flyaway strands of dark hair out of her eyes as she peered up at the other woman. "Hm, no, I've got to keep the kids out all day. The Owls are having a meeting at Clara's house, and I'm stuck playing babysitter." She scoffed, as if she thought it was ridiculous that the leader of a principal resistance group should be reduced to watching a bunch of toddlers - not that any of the factions that were still around had much to do in Timber anymore; since the Galbadian forces had been removed from the city over two years before, their work mostly entailed quarterly meetings with Galbadian officials to ensure that things stayed that way. Quistis only smiled, twirling her key ring around and around on her finger.

"Well, we'll see you tomorrow night, then."

"Oh!" Rinoa stood up, her spirits visibly brightened. "You mean you'll actually come?"

"You sound like you're expecting me to flake out."

"Well, I…" the brunette shrugged. "I didn't figure you'd go for the whole beach party thing. It doesn't really go with your image, does it?"

"Hmm, well," Quistis seemed thoughtful for a moment, walking the other way, toward the end of the esplanade where the truck she'd rented for the week was parked, and casting a cheeky grin back over her shoulder at Rinoa. "Maybe I'm going for a new image."

"I don't suppose you plan on telling me what the fuck you're up to."

Seifer barely glanced up from the very bland novel he'd been pretending to read while they waited for the train. "Fuujin, my dear, I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Mmmmm," She nodded, stretching her disbelief out into two long syllables. "Tell me why I don't buy that."

"Paranoia?"

"You've been acting weird the whole time you've been here," she went on, swinging her foot impatiently, gearing up for what Seifer predicted was going to be a long, loud nag. "You're spacing out. You're always smiling at strange moments."

"I'm not allowed to be happy?" He interrupted, shutting the book. He didn't even know what it was, had just grabbed it off a pile in his room before he left, but it was obvious Fuujin wasn't going to let this go, so there was no point in continuing to feign interest in reading. She stared at him with one red eye, her gaze promising violence if he didn't cut the bullshit.

"You're not happy. You're…" she trailed off with a frustrated sort of sound. "Gleeful. You're plotting something, and I want to know what it is."

"_Why_ do you need to know?" Seifer countered, staring out past the terminal at the ocean beyond. His companion clucked her tongue.

"So I can decide what I need to do. Try and stop you, try and help you, or stay the fuck out of it."

"You want my advice?"

"Damnit, Seifer, don't be glib," She snipped, tossing her hair out of her eyes. "Don't forget that I do outrank you now."

"Are you fucking serious? You're pulling rank on me?" Seifer sat forward, all traces of humor vanished. Narrowing his eyes, he went on quietly, "Even if I am _plotting_, it has nothing to do with you. So I suggest you just stay the fuck out of it."

He sat back, and they both were silent for a few minutes as the sound of a train clattering in the distance gradually moved closer. Fuujin pursed her lips, and said, at length, "I'll find out sooner or later, you know. You can't keep silent forever."

"Hm," Seifer grunted in response, studying his fingernails. He glanced up. "Speaking of silent, what's Raijin's deal? He hasn't said two words to me at once since I've been here," the gunblader frowned, peering down to the far end of the bench where Fuu's partner was dozing, his head lolling to one side. She pursed her lips, clearly not thrown off by Seifer's skillful evasion of the subject she'd been pursuing.

Eventually, she shrugged, and answered, "Every time we go abroad, I threaten that if he says anything stupid or incriminating, I'll Silence him. He's been heeding it rather well after the first few times, I gotta say."

"I should have guessed," Seifer sighed with a disinterested nod. That was patently the sort of thing Fuujin would do if she felt that anything, say, a careless comment at the expense of a foreign leader, should threaten her cushy job. Seifer snickered at the mental image of Raijin cowering from a chakra-wielding Fuu - not a novel idea, by any means; he'd always been afraid of Fuujin (well, weren't they all?) but it had never stopped him from acting like a retard before, and Seifer felt a small surge of pride on his best friend's behalf for having finally found something that worked to curb her partner's propensity for blurting things out without thinking about them first. She did not, however, appear to appreciate this any, still giving him the stony eye, clearly not about to give up her henpecking just when she'd got started.

"Yes, it's working quite well," She went on pointedly, seeming nonchalant although Seifer knew she was anything but. "I'm considering adapting the strategy for other situations as well - many people, for instance, can be goaded into giving up information under threat of Pain…"

"First you pull rank on me, and now you're threatening me?" The gunblader snorted. "And here I thought the world had turned upside down, but you haven't changed a bit."

"I'm offering you my help here, Seifer." She replied quite softly, folding her arms across her chest and staring away at the train that was rolling to a stop at the end of the platform. "If you don't want it, fine, but I'm offering it all the same. I've stuck with you through a lot of things, and whatever you're scheming now I'm sure I can handle. So."

Seifer was pensive. "Ah, the guilt trip. I was waiting for that."

"You know what? Fine. I don't give a shit what you do," Fuujin announced tersely, standing from the bench and staring determinedly away from Seifer, clearly angry with him, but he knew it wouldn't last long, it never did - Fuujin's anger was like a gale; wild and destructive, but brief. She kicked Raijin viciously on the shin, and he awoke with a yelp, quickly wilting when he saw his partner towering over him with the look of death in her eyes. She turned, shooting Seifer with a sharp, piercing glare, and added, "But don't you ask for my help later when you end up fucking yourself over, Seifer. I'm going to fucking enjoy watching you make an arse out of yourself."

"Oh, I'm sure you will, Fuu," Seifer replied calmly, rising from his seat as the three of them made their way over to the train, waiting for the small crowd of passengers exiting the platform to dissipate, Fuujin stalking ahead of the other two, Raijin limping behind alternately hopping on his good leg and massaging what was sure to be a brilliant bruise on the other. "I'm quite sure you will."

"Hey, don't I know you?"

Zell jumped in surprise, clutching his plastic cup of beer to his chest as it threatened to spill. _Holy fuck, where did she come from?_ he wondered, eyeing up the young girl in a cobalt tube top who had just appeared seemingly from nowhere in front of him, a drink in each hand, two strawberry blonde pigtails bobbing up and down as she bounced. She didn't look familiar to him, and she certainly wasn't one of his students. He hoped she wasn't one of Rinoa's ditzy friends sent round to try and hook him; she'd been directing girls his way all night long, for what purpose he couldn't fathom (besides simply to satiate her need to interfere in everyone else's business, hopeless snoop that she was,) but it was sure getting annoying. However, in response, he simply said, "Sorry? I don't think we've met."

"Your name's Zell, right?" She chirped, sparkly pink lips stretched into a tipsy grin as she wavered from side to side, her feet sliding in the sand. Zell swallowed a sigh. "No, I mean, you don't know me, I… but I know_you_," She went on. "You fought against the sorceress, didn't you?"

He gave a short nod, taking a drink of his beer. The girl gave a small whoop of laughter, waving one of her drinks at him excitedly. "I thought it was you! I'm from Galbadia Garden, I was there when you guys fought her! I was an underclassman then, so, like, they would let us go in the fight, you know, the invasion. But I remember seeing you. I'm Nelthilta, by the way," She ended with a slightly drunken titter, and then drained one of her drinks, tossing the cup behind her into the dunes so that she could extend a now-free hand to Zell, who took it reluctantly, forcing a smile.

"Nice to meet you…" he mumbled, and she chuckled again, appearing to be completely smitten with him -_wonderful_, he grumbled to himself, _just what I need, drunken girls falling all over me._ Really, how shameless could Rinoa be? And where the hell was Quistis when he needed her? If anyone could scare away all these bimbos simply by being at his side, it would be his fellow instructor, but she had vanished almost immediately after they had arrived at the party, despite the hours she had spent earlier that morning goading him into going to it. He wanted to go look for her so that he could leave already, but the thought of the scolding he would surely receive for disappearing without her was beginning to look like a sunny stroll in the park compared to having to stand around here any longer, drinking piss-warm beer and waiting for Rinoa to run out of friends to send over his way. Nelthilta was teetering from side to side, watching him blearily.

"I think I'll have this," Zell declared, plucking the drink out of the poor girl's hand and dumping it in the sand. She gave a hugely exaggerated pout, now completely divested of alcohol.

"I _was_ drinking that."

"Yes, well, you've had about enough," He said gently. She didn't appear to be particularly angry with him, however, and suddenly leaned in close to his ear, her long, soft hair sweeping over his shoulder.

"Hmm, you know…" she murmured, placing a hand on his chest for balance as she swayed in the sand. "My friends and me rented a hotel room in town, but, umm, they're all, y'know, out right now… so maybe you could, like, help me find my way back?"

"Uhh…" Zell faltered. Was she proposing what he thought she was proposing? _Don't be a dolt, Zell, of course she is,_ he mentally berated himself. He backed away a few steps, trainers sliding in the dry sand, and Nelthilta pitched forward without anything to lean against, catching herself just in time to keep from going face first into the side of the dune. Zell stammered, tossing about for a reply; she was obviously expecting a favorable one - wait, why the hell was he even thinking twice about it? This should be a no-brainer, just say sure, head on back to her room, and spend the night having hot, delicious, drunk sex with a very pretty girl. Hell, wasn't this exactly what he had been looking for for the past week?

Nelthilta was certainly pretty, petite with a sylphlike face and pale green eyes, slender limbs and one hell of a rack. As far as looks went, she was just what he usually went for and more. But something about her, Zell couldn't even begin to place what, but something appealed to him on a deeper, more subtle level - and he had a feeling it had little to do with prettiness. It was something, he thought briefly, something more latent, and he couldn't quite grasp it yet. She was too… too… _familiar_…

"Oh, shit," he moaned as he suddenly realized what dark, appalling thought was lurking at the back of his mind, and he all but leapt backward from the confused young girl, who tumbled into the sand with a yelp. It couldn't be. No, that was too messed up even for Zell, who considered himself only slightly better off than Squall in terms of messed-up-in-the-head-ness lately, to be thinking. There were plenty of viable reasons not to sleep with this girl, besides the fact that she was roaring drunk and, Zell was inclined to suspect, not particularly of age - if she'd been an underclassman four and a half years ago, she would _barely_ be eighteen now, if that. But despite the fact that, even if this girl was a legal adult, it would still be exceedingly wrong to sleep with her given the circumstances, there was a small part of him that wanted very much to, even as he realized where he had seen eyes like hers before.

She was making an effort to climb to her feet now, her front crusted with sand which she attempted to dislodge from her cleavage with awkward swipes. "What the," She began, pausing to hiccough as she gave a small sob, "Fuck d'you think you're doing?"

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he stammered, backing away. "I, um, I can't…"

"Damn right you can't!" She barked back, stumbling in the other direction, but making little headway as she continued to lose her balance in the unyielding sand. "You can fucking forget about it, fucking jerk!" she shouted back over her shoulder, snuffling as she clumsily made her way down the dune. Zell stood rooted in place, lost for words. _Well, at least she's leaving,_ he mused bitterly.

"Nelly!"

"Oh, thank fuck you're here," Zell breathed in relief as Rinoa came jogging up, beelining to intercept her inebriated friend, and shooting a half-curious, half-peeved glance up at him on the way. She laced an arm around Nelthilta's shoulder, speaking softly to the young girl as she led her away toward the bulk of the party, leaving her in the care of a group of girls relaxing around a bonfire. The brunette then spun around and shot straight back up the beach, charging toward Zell, but he had already turned and fled the other way - not quickly enough, however; she caught up with him at the drinks table, her dark eyes promising unpleasantness.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Zell?" She crowed, looking only slightly angry on her friend's behalf, and more like she was only irritated that he'd run away from her - not many people dared. She went on, "You made Nelthilta cry!"

"Well, where the fuck do you get off sending all your dopey girlfriends over to me like I'm some kinda fuckin' charity case?" He spat back, ladling punch (or what looked like punch, at least,) into a plastic cup. Rinoa's glare sharpened, and then melted again, and she leaned against the rickety table, lithe arms folded over her chest.

"First of all, I didn't _send_ Nel anywhere - I don't know where she came from and I ran over to try and distract her as soon as I saw she was bugging you," the young sorceress began to explain, her tone a bit too miffed for Zell's liking - he never did like knowing he was the cause of someone else's annoyance, especially Rinoa, who, though perhaps a bit flakey, had always been a fairly sweet girl. He took a swig of his punch (which, judging by the taste, was approximately nine parts liquor to every one part juice, but that certainly wasn't going to stop him from downing it,) and he was trying to think of some kind of witty retort to serve back at the piqued little brunette, when she continued, "And pardon me for being worried about you! You looked like you were having a terrible time, so I just thought I'd-"

"Meddle?" Zell interjected, stopping her short in the middle of her tirade. She gave a slight pout.

"Listen, I'm not the only one who's concerned," She defended herself, at least having the grace to look sheepish as she stared determinedly away from Zell. "Quistis is afraid you're lonely."

"Yeah, she's almost as bad as you when it comes to that whole meddling thing."

"Now, this is just what I mean," Rinoa said, a note of exasperation lacing her would-be nonchalant tone, and she peered over at the blonde through her eyelashes. "I know we don't see much of each other anymore, but even I can tell there's something off about you. You've never yelled at me before."

"Well, I've never been as annoyed with you as I am now," he replied flippantly, but it was only after they'd both gone silent again that her words fully sunk in, and they stung more than he'd expected they would - if even Rinoa, whom he only saw for any length of time once every few months, if that, could tell that he wasn't feeling himself, then who knew what Quistis or anyone else had figured out by now? Was he just completely giving himself away? Perhaps Rinoa was simply more perceptive than his other friends - no, the idea just wouldn't keep. He must have looked as dejected as he suddenly felt, because her expression went very soft, and she gave him an encouraging sort of pat on the shoulder, a touching - if slightly awkward - gesture.

"Well," she began at length, snapping a cheerful face on as quickly and easily as slipping into a new tee-shirt. "You're welcome to come to me any time you feel like spilling the beans - I know you _won't_," she then added, and Zell had to give a little chuckle only because it was true. "But I'm just putting it out there. I know you've got to be careful with what kind of stuff gets out in a place like Garden, especially with you being an instructor. I can't imagine you have anyone you can really confide in there…"

"No shit…" Zell sighed in response, finishing off his punch and turning to fill the cup again. Only after he'd guzzled half of it down did he begin to wonder if maybe Rinoa wasn't just what he was looking for - not a good lay, but a friend to whom he could divulge certain things that just weren't tolerated at a military acadamy; an impartial observer, a bystander. Except for the fact that she was dating Squall, and Zell didn't know how tight they were… she seemed like the kind of girlfriend who would tell him everything about everything, no matter that he probably didn't give a shit. Besides, what would he even tell? _Well, Rinoa, I feel like I'm going batshit insane with paranoia lately, and oh yeah, I've been having lots of homoerotic thoughts about a guy I've spent a good part of my life hating with a vengeance, have you any advice for me?_ That was sure to go over well.

"Zell?" She prompted after a few long moments of silence, the quiet punctuated by the breaking of waves over the sand and the dull roar of the winding-down party they'd left behind. Zell mused over his punch, declining to answer. Rinoa had once dated Seifer, a brief chapter of her life which she declared to this day had been merely the result of a silly teenage fancy (although she was no longer a teenager, but only marginally less silly.) She might understand - there was something about him, a sort of charisma, that made attraction impossible to resist, and Zell was only now beginning to realize and accept its presence.

"It's really nothing big," He replied eventually, forcing an acceptable amount of nonchalance into his voice and hoping that it would fool the young sorceress, but he couldn't read anything of her expression in the dim flickering glow of the firelight. He shrugged and continued, "But I appreciate the offer all the same. And I'm sorry I was short with you."

"Oh, please!" She chuckled, slapping him hard on the shoulder. "That's already forgotten. I just want to be sure you're alright."

"I've already said, it's nothing," he reiterated, cracking a weak grin as Rinoa nodded and smiled and then excused herself back to the party that was tapering off further up on the beach, leaving him mercifully alone for the first time that night. He gnawed pensively on the corner of his lip as he watched her go, pale yellow sundress billowing out in the breeze. _At least,_ he thought to himself, a grim smile creeping over his lips, _it's nothing a few more cups of punch can't fix..._

Seifer tossed away the stub of his second-to-last cigarette into the grass and was contemplating lighting up that last one when he began to hear someone approaching, and he sat up, cursing quietly to himself, to find someplace to hide; he'd taken a big chance having a smoke (or five) right outside the main entrance to Garden, but since all the other open-air areas of the school were guarded at night, he'd had little choice - and considering that this was the first time he'd heard any sign of another human being passing by in the hour or so he'd been laying there in the grass, he felt pretty lucky. But at this time of night, this intrusion upon his solitude could only be Garden faculty or a security guard making rounds, and he certainly didn't need to be caught red-handed committing a double felony - smoking on school grounds and being out-of-bounds in the middle of the night. He swept the half dozen cigarette butts littering the ground around him into a nearby flower bed, and then crouched behind a clump of bushes, taking great care not to be visible from the entryway.

_What would my posse say if they saw the once-great Seifer Almasy, hiding behind a bush like some kind of juvenile delinquent?_ he thought bitterly to himself.

The footsteps coming up the path were getting closer, but slower - and uneven, sometimes shuffling and stumbling, and Seifer sighed. So it wasn't a faculty member, just some drunk student trying to sneak back in the middle of the night instead of doing the sensible thing and waiting until morning, when it would be easy to blend in among the rush of kids and teachers going back and forth to town. He almost left his hiding spot, annoyed that he'd had to do something so undignified as to squat behind a bush to avoid being caught, but then decided to stay put; it was still better to go unseen, even if whoever was staggering around out there was so tanked they couldn't even see properly, let alone identify him.

He waited impatiently for a few long minutes, fighting against the urge to just peek his head out and see who the poor sot was - what could it hurt, really? He peered through the branches, smirking to himself at the unfortunate individual who was now trying with admirable determination to navigate the stairs, clinging to the railing for dear life. Seifer stared; something was familiar about that student… except it wasn't a student at all, it was…

"Chicken-wuss?" He said incredulously, standing up before he'd even realized what he was doing; Zell spun around at the sound of his voice, toppling in surprise back down the few steps he'd managed to ascend.

"Speak a' the fuckin' devil!" Zell yelled, his expression gathering storm clouds as he recognized Seifer strolling leisurely toward him. He looked utterly wasted, the gunblader decided with a smirk, clutching the railing with a white-knuckled grip just to keep upright, his hair and clothes in total disarray, heavy-lidded blue eyes glaring up at Seifer with nothing less than pure loathing reflected in their glassy depths. "I was jes' thinking about you!"

"Dare I wonder why?" Seifer replied coolly, glancing around just to double-check that no guards or students were loitering around the area, and he barely managed to dodge the punch that Zell threw at him the next moment; slow and sluggish though the younger boy was in his drunkenness, he was still a force to be reckoned with, and Seifer wasn't all that sure he wanted to test whether or not he could take Zell in a physical fight. He backed a few paces away, crouching a dozen or so steps above the other boy, who was venturing to climb the stairs again now that his immediate target had moved out of range, muttering something that sounded very much like, "I fuckin' hate you, fuckin' _hate_ you," over and over under his breath. Seifer might have found the sight pathetic, if he hadn't been so amused by the martial artist's plight.

"I'd give up if I were you," he suggested after Zell's third failed attempt to make it to the top of the steps; he seemed to take Seifer's advice, and sat down heavily halfway up, leaning against the rail for support. He shot a bleary glare over at Seifer, but he said nothing, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The elder reclined where he sat a few steps up, still glancing over his shoulder from time to time to make sure they wouldn't be happened upon by any of the Garden faculty members, but enjoying the situation too much to really be worried about what might happen if they were. The tables had been turned; Zell was the wasted one, and Seifer was in control now, and he was sure as fuck going to take advantage of this beautiful opportunity that had been dropped into his lap.

"So what are you doing out here?" He asked calmly.

"What are _you_ doin' here?" Was Zell's retort as he half-turned to shoot a menacing glare up at his nemesis.

"Watching you make an arse out of yourself, and I've gotta say, it's a lot of fucking fun."

"This is all your fuckin' fault, Almasy!" The younger boy shouted suddenly, and Seifer bolted down the stairs, clapping a hand over his mouth before he could raise any unwanted attention to the two of them. Zell was shocked into complete silence by this abrupt action, swatting wildly at Seifer's hand in an attempt to remove it from his face, fortunately able to keep quiet even after he was released. Seifer knelt next to him and tried to pull him to his feet, with no assistance from the martial artist himself, who seemed determined to refuse any help and was only gradually making his way to his feet, swaying slightly in place.

"What th'fuck do you _want_, Seifer?" He slurred angrily, but at least quietly, sending another halfhearted swing Seifer's way and almost toppling over from his own momentum. The gunblader growled under his breath, grabbing Zell's arm to steady him, but he wasn't particularly angry; how could he be, with such hilarious circumstances as these?

"Right now I'd really like to get the hell out of here without rousting the whole Garden faculty, so why don't you shut your big fucking mouth and concentrate on getting up the goddamn stairs?" He murmured in a venomous tone of voice, hauling the inebriated younger boy up the steps one at a time.

"I hate goddamn stairs," Zell grunted.

"I'm sure the feeling's mutual."

"This is all _your_ damn fault, y'know," he went on drowsily, jabbing Seifer in the shoulder to emphasize exactly whom he was talking about. He swayed back and forth but they managed to ascend the stairs without incident; Zell stopped for a moment at the top to regain his balance, leaning heavily on the taller boy's shoulder. "Fuck, I hate you."

"You've said that already," Seifer said.

"It's all your fault."

"You've said that, too," The elder sighed, heaving Zell upright again and pulling him onward through the main entrance and down the corridor. He seemed to be faring slightly better now, and shuffled along on his own, leading the way although he didn't appear to have a very good idea of where he was going. Several times Seifer had to steer him back on the right path before he wandered off into the parking lot or tumbled over the partition into the still pools of water twinkling below them in the dim fluorescent light. They did, however, eventually reach the dormitories (and without encountering a soul, Seifer mused briefly; he sure was lucky today,) and this was where Zell collapsed again, slumping down in the corner behind a pillar with a rattling sigh, looking as though he might be sick - not that either of them would be surprised if he were.

"Why the fuck're you even helping me, anyway?" He growled accusingly, as if assistance was the very last thing in the world he wanted, and Seifer was sorely tempted to just leave him where he lay if he was going to be so ungrateful. _It's not like I'm doing this for your sake,_ he thought to himself, but to tell Zell that would raise suspicions over his motives that he really didn't want to deal with right now, when there was still a rather large chance that they could be stumbled upon by security or some other Garden faculty member, or even a student who happened to be out of bed or heard the noise they were making and came to investigate. No, better to try and get Zell back to his dorm first and deal with the questions later - there were sure to be some once the younger boy figured out what Seifer was up to.

"Because," he started tersely, grabbing Zell by the elbow and yanking him back to his feet, draping the other's arm over his shoulders to keep him steady, "You may not have a curfew, but I do, and if you hadn't noticed, I happen to be breaking it right now. And you're making a whole hell of a lot of noise, so I'd like to get someplace safe before anyone hears it and finds us out here. Is that quite alright with you?"

"No!" Zell slurred, struggling wearily as the gunblader tried to get him walking again. "I got another question!"

"Can you at least walk and talk at the same time? Or are you incapable of multitasking?"

"Fuck you!" Zell said, rather too loudly in Seifer's opinion, and swung another easily-dodged fist at the older boy, but refused to move from his spot. "What the fuck are you planning, and why can't you jes' leave me the fuck alone?"

Seifer didn't think it would be worth the argument to point out to the other that he had asked two questions, and he stepped away from Zell, folding his arms over his chest with a frustrated sigh. This was certainly going to be much more difficult than he had anticipated - but then, when had anything dealing with the martial artist ever been easy? "I could just leave you out here to stew in the corridor, if you want. It'll make a good show in the morning when security comes to haul your drunken carcass down to the council for a hearing."

"She was gorgeous, y'know," Zell said next, picking up a new topic as if they hadn't just been discussing something completely unrelated, and throwing his arm out dramatically to emphasize the point he hadn't gotten to yet. "Well," he continued angrily, "Not _gorgeous_, but she was pretty. But I… man, I couldn't do it. I fuckin' couldn't."

"What the hell are you babbling about now, Dincht?"

"I just couldn't do it," The younger boy mumbled, and then was silent for a moment. "She had some fucking nice tits, you know."

"That's why you couldn't do it?" Seifer snarled, growing increasingly impatient with Zell's drunken antics - whatever the fuck he was talking about, Seifer was quite sure he didn't give a damn. The martial artist was still glowering at him with glassy eyes, his hands balled into tight fists and half-cocked in front of him; the boy was clearly spoiling for a fight, and Seifer was very determined not to give him one - not just yet. He took a few steps back to give Zell some space, waiting - hoping - that he would cool down and let the older SeeD guide him back to his dorm; a good deal of Seifer's plan depended on just that.

"She looked just like you," was the next thing Zell said, which made absolutely no sense to Seifer, not that anything the instructor had said in the past few minutes really did. He sighed again, too annoyed with the fact that Zell couldn't seem to grasp a hold of what he wanted to talk about to be curious about what the blue-eyed boy was thinking about. Then again, maybe he was always like this, drunk or not - Seifer never really bothered to pay attention to anything he said, usually very focused on tuning him out, nearly always a futile endeavor.

"Sorry, Dincht, you lost me between 'she had nice tits' and 'she looked just like you'," He replied, taking Zell by the wrist and heaving him back onto his feet - he appeared to be sobering up a little, which might or might not be a good thing; Seifer needed him quite drunk for what he was scheming, but not so much so that the boy couldn't even make it back to his dormitory; he needed to be sentient, but not lucid enough to be able to defend himself. It was a delicate balance, and Seifer had a feeling his window on it was closing fast; if he let Zell stand around here drying out any longer, he was going to lose his chance. He pulled the martial artist down the hall once more, Zell now subdued and quiet - thankfully - following obediently like a puppy on a lead.

"Where we goin'?" Zell murmured after a minute, hobbling along steadily as Seifer shepherded him through the winding hallways into the instructors' wing of the dorms.

"To your room, Dincht."

"Huh," he said, not a question, but an affirmation of what Seifer had just told him. "What's the point of this?"

Seifer smirked, and had Zell been able to see the expression on his one-time bully's face, he might have run away in fear for his own safety. But Seifer only said, "Oh, that's for me to know and you to find out…" 


	6. Chapter 6

"I took your advice," Zell hiccoughed, a goofy grin plastered across his drunken mug as he leaned over Seifer's shoulder, his voice quiet and sleepy in Seifer's ear as he hovered, ignoring the ex-knight's repeated attempts to swat him away. "I changed the key code."

"Thank you, captain obvious, I couldn't have figured _that_ out on my own," Seifer snarled as the display just to the left of Zell's door beeped a second time and flashed red at him, a warning that one more wrong attempt to input the code would result in a two-hour lockout as well as a silent alarm being sent to the security office to alert them of a possible break-in - unless he were to swipe Zell's school ID, which would nullify the entire process, but as the instructor had already admitted to not carrying his badge with him, it wasn't an option. Seifer glowered at the inebriated blonde, who was hanging heavily on his shoulder; it was hard enough to concentrate on what he was doing in the dark while listening to make sure they weren't found by security without having the added distraction of Zell breathing hotly down the side of his neck to deal with. He pushed the other boy away once again, growling, "D'you mind telling me what it is so I can get your drunken arse inside?"

"Hmm… I don't think I shall, no," Zell trilled in a singsong voice in reply, swaying on unsteady feet and falling sidelong into the elder SeeD. Getting angrier by the second, Seifer shoved him away for the umpteenth time that night.

"Why the hell am I even bothering…?" He mumbled, the question aimed more at himself than at Zell, who wasn't listening in any case. He took a deep, steadying breath to calm himself. _Just remember what this is for,_ Seifer told himself, trying to remain in control of his temper, which hadn't been pushed as close to the limit as it was right now by anyone since the war. _It's just a matter of patience. Get him in that dorm room and he is all yours._

Seifer smirked, glancing down at the martial artist who had fallen over and was now sprawled across the hallway at his feet. "I ought to just fucking leave you there," He said coolly, giving Zell a not-so-gentle nudge with his boot. "Come on, Dincht, just tell me already."

"Fuck off," Zell replied, waving a tired hand up at the gunblader but otherwise not stirring. "Jus' leave me alone."

"Why won't you just fucking let me do something nice for you for once?" Seifer barked, yanking the smaller boy to his feet by the front of his tee-shirt. "It's never going to happen again, you should be trying to take full advantage of the situation."

"Nice? You?" Zell scoffed, grabbing the fist that was bunched in the hem of his shirt, but making no attempt to remove it from his person. "Can't you jes' go away? I know you never listened t'me in your life before, but how 'bout you start now?"

"This is what I get for trying to do you a favor," Seifer said huffily, releasing the other boy, who slumped against the wall next to him. He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. Was this really worth the trouble just to get back at Zell for making a fool out of him? If that were his only motive, Seifer would have abandoned ship on this stupid plan a long time ago, but as he stood there watching Zell teeter tipsily from side to side, clearly unable to take care of himself in his current state, he felt something stir inside him, a sort of… what was it? Concern? Truthfully, there was a part of him that did want to help Zell out; the other blonde had, after all, done it for him during his last drunken escapade (even if Seifer had forced his assistance, Zell not simply rolling his unconscious carcass out into the hallway after he passed out was an act of kindness that he could not overlook, and pride demanded that it be repaid in some form or another.) Not that he _cared_ about what happened to Zell after this, or anything. This was just for the sake of returning a favor, nothing more.

Seifer stared down at the keypad, a small green light winking periodically at him in the darkness, his jaw clenched in frustration. A fine fucking time for Zell to start taking his advice. Unless… He cast a glance over at Zell, who was managing to stand on his own with the support of the wall behind him, but just barely. A thought struck him suddenly, and with a half-grin, he turned to punch a sequence of numbers into the keypad, wondering why he was the least bit surprised when it opened this time - trust Zell to take his advice word for word, the one time he actually took it at all. He grabbed the younger boy by the arm before he had a chance to protest and dragged him inside. "You know, when I suggested you use a birthday, I didn't mean your own," He explained with a small shake of the head, shoving Zell into the dorm room before turning to slide the door shut and make sure it locked securely behind them. "The point is to use someone _else's_birthday, something that other people wouldn't expect you to know-"

Zell's fists suddenly spun Seifer around by the front of his jacket and cut him off, pinning him back against the door; Seifer registered somewhere in the back of his mind that the instructor must be junctioned; the ease with which he was holding him prostrate even while plastered and the fact that he couldn't even struggle against Zell's hold were both clear indicators of that, but any rumination he might have done on that train of thought was pushed to the back of his mind as Zell leaned close to him, sleepy blue eyes staring with utmost loathing up at Seifer. "I hate you, Almasy," He said quietly, and despite the fact that he'd said the same thing more than a half a dozen times already that night, he seemed for the first time to be really sincere, and Seifer felt himself wilt just a little - sure, Zell had probably told him that hundreds of times since they'd known each other, and he'd probably returned the sentiment at least twice that much, but this was the first time he'd ever felt disconsolate in the face of it, and the feeling was wholly unpleasant.

"Yeah, I heard you the first fifty times you said that," He replied flippantly, reaching for Zell's wrists to try and pry him away, but Zell wasn't budging and apparently wasn't about to let Seifer do so, either. He continued to stare, seeming to be thinking hard about something.

"I don't want you in my room," He said next, his tone soft and slightly slurred, but coldly menacing. His face was mere inches from Seifer's and the ex-knight found he didn't know what to do; all of the cool nonchalance and levelheadedness he prided himself on seemed to have deserted him as he stared into depthless azure orbs. The room was dark, Zell's skin a corpselike white in the moonlight that fell in wide beams through the windows, blemished only by the sharp, inky lines of the tattoo that ran down from his temple; his heavy-lidded gaze was dark with what Seifer took to be anger, hidden behind a few spikes of golden hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Seifer fought to find his voice, forcing out a weak reply. "What, are you afraid I'm going to try something? Remember who you're talking to here, Dincht."

"No," Zell mumbled, his head nodding forward, and he laid it gently in the crook of Seifer's neck, much to the gunblader's surprise and confusion, before going on, "I'm afraid I might…"

He trailed off and didn't continue. Seifer stared down at the top of his head, hardly even able to think coherently, let alone figure out what to do about this strange new development. His first instinct was to push Zell away, but the blonde's fists were still entangled tightly in the lapels of his trenchcoat and not only was Zell a fair deal stronger than him while junctioned, he was also still quite drunk, which made him unpredictable; Seifer wasn't certain he wanted to test the martial artist's patience just then. But all the same, it wasn't entirely unpleasant, the feeling of another warm body pressed so closely to his own, Zell's hair falling softly against his neck. The younger boy's breaths billowed against his neck, hot and slow, sending little shivers down his spine.

"If you puke on me, Dincht, I swear to Hyne I will slaughter you," He warned grouchily, but even he could hear that his own threat had little sting to it. Zell stirred slightly, lifting his head as if it weighed a hundred pounds and unfisting one hand from the front of Seifer's coat, each movement long and torpid as though he were simply too tired to move any faster.

Seifer grabbed the younger boy by the shoulders, pushing him gently back a step. "Get the fuck in your bed, Dincht. I'm not gonna stay here all night taking care of you like a fucking baby," He growled.

"This is your fault," Zell said again, keeping his gaze low, but he sounded fairly more lucid than he had at any point during the night so far. He was quiet again then, but only for a few moments before continuing, "You're such an arsehole. Makin' me think shit. 'S wrong."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but I can assure you I don't give a damn," was Seifer's terse reply. He moved to push Zell back again, trying to steer him toward the bed, but before he could take even one step Zell, displaying an agility and speed that Seifer had hardly seen him touch when at his athletic peak, let alone when wasted, turned and spun the gunblader into the nearest wall, his head colliding painfully with the hard surface behind him; but it wasn't for another half a minute or so until his head cleared from the impact that he was able to register that an entirely different, much more interesting collision had occurred - Zell was kissing him; sloppily, certainly, but a firm and enthusiastic effort on the martial artist's part. Seifer was so shocked by the action at first that he couldn't seem to even think, much less react to such a perplexing and wholly unexpected act. Zell was _kissing_ him. _Zell_.

He tried to back away, but Zell's hand placed fixedly at the nape of his neck held him in place, and when he opened his mouth to protest Zell only took it as an opportunity to thrust his tongue into Seifer's mouth, effectively rendering any further endeavors at resistance on Seifer's part futile; the ex-knight's knees went weak and the blood rushed to his head as he tried to grasp what was going on. _Get a grip on yourself, Seifer! This is _Dincht_you're kissing! You should be knocking his arse the fuck out!_

But he didn't. Or perhaps he couldn't; Seifer felt as though all his strength had been drained as his knees buckled and only because of the wall at his back was he able to remain standing, and it was… it was… well, it was _good_; it shouldn't have been, but it _was_. Zell was an amazing kisser. _Did I really just think that?_ he spared a half second to wonder, but no longer than that; Zell's tongue twined slickly around his own, and the capacity for intelligent thought was lost to the sensations he was drowning in. The alluring softness of those lips that he had, for so long, been accustomed to hearing spew insults and profanities at him, now pressed against his own with an urgency that bordered on desperation, almost as if Zell was afraid that Seifer might push him away at any second - although the fear was not unjustly founded, considering their relationship; Seifer himself was surprised at his own reaction to the kiss - and his complete lack of aversion to it - and was only just beginning to grasp what that might mean when Zell leaped away from him as though scalded, swaying on unsteady feet as he seemed to try to comprehend what he had just done. Seifer wondered if he was regretting his impetuous action… or if he was at all aware of what was going on.

"Dincht," He growled softly, reaching out and grabbing the younger boy by the shoulder to stabilize him, even while mentally Seifer was still struggling to stabilize himself. Sure, seducing Zell had been a part of his plan, but he'd never given much thought to the actual _act_ of it, nor had he expected anything like this to happen so _quickly_; he'd figured on having to spend quite a good deal of time charming Zell into recognizing his appeal, and he most definitely had not expected Zell to make a move on him first. He'd taken Zell for a complete closet case. Oh, Seifer hadn't been ignorant of the instructor's little "problem" when he had visited Zell's dorm those few weeks ago, and he hadn't pretended not to notice it simply for Zell's sake, either - while he _had_ noted that the martial artist hadn't then and possibly still didn't possess an awareness of what his body's curious reaction to Seifer's provocations meant, the gunblader understood quite well what Zell was very likely in denial of, even if the other boy had scarcely yet touched upon the notion that there might be something to deny.

Zell wanted him in the basest and most licentious way, and the silly boy didn't even know it.

Of course, Seifer knew he was walking a thin rope when it came to the seduction part of his plan; Zell could easily go to anyone in Garden and accuse the older boy of harassment, and next thing you know half the student population would be lining up against Seifer to defend their favorite instructor's virtue, but he was banking on Zell's pride - as well as his fear of retaliation should he do anything to endanger the ex-knight's position within Garden - to keep Zell from blabbing about any happenings that might occur between them. That Zell might actually _admit_ to his attraction to Seifer - an attraction which he was probably not even consciously aware of himself - might be hoping for too much. Seifer didn't trust that his luck would be good enough for things to go _that_ smoothly.

"Seif…" Zell began - not Almasy, the gunblader noted with a small surge of triumph, or even arsehole, one of Zell's more frequently utilized pet names for him - grasping the front of Seifer's coat with shaky hands, his head hung low, whether out of shame or embarrassment or simply because he hadn't the strength to keep it up any longer, Seifer didn't know. The drunken boy teetered back and forth on his feet, still and quiet for a few long, uncomfortable minutes. Just as Seifer was about to bite the bullet and ask Zell what the fuck he thought he was up to, the younger boy turned and bolted - not out the door, but into the bathroom, wherefrom the dulcet sounds of the instructor losing his lunch could soon be heard. _Lovely,_ Seifer thought to himself, giving a quiet sigh as he slumped back against the wall. _At least he thought to do it after and not before he kissed me..._

He felt his cheeks flame a bit at recalling the strange series of events that had led up to this moment - the kiss in particular, which, though indisputably unexpected, had not been entirely unwelcome. Seifer came to the conclusion that he had not disliked it, strange as the very notion was, and that he might not object to a repeat performance; Zell's kiss had certainly stirred something inside him that had lain dormant for too long. Being loathed by the general populace pretty much guaranteed Seifer a solitary existence; sexual encounters of any kind were few and far between, and real relationships practically ancient history. After all, who would lower themselves to the level of a disgraced ex-knight? Seifer had all but given up hope of having a normal, healthy relationship with anyone… _not_ that he was thinking about having one with Zell; but the thought had sprouted in his mind, all the same, that maybe the only way he would ever have something resembling normal would be with someone who hated it as much as he did.

A quiet groan sounded from the other room, and Seifer, stopping for just a moment to collect himself, went to the doorway. Zell was laying on his back on the bathroom floor, eyes shut and breathing slowly, and Seifer thought he was passed out until he realized that Zell was mumbling something under his breath which, upon closer scrutiny, turned out to be more "I fuckin' hate you, Almasy… _hate_ you…"

"Come on, Dincht," Seifer said gently, leaning in the doorway. "Get up, get in your bed. I'm not gonna let you pass out on the bathroom floor, for fuck's sake." He paused to consider that, while Zell remained impassive on the tile. "Or maybe I should. You sure as shit don't deserve otherwise."

"Can't you take a hint?" Zell finally replied, pulling himself into a sitting position against the tub. Pushing his disheveled hair back from his face, he stared around until his bleary gaze focused on Seifer, and went on, "Get _out_. I won' tell you again."

Seifer didn't doubt that, seeing as the martial artist seemed to be rapidly losing the ability to convert his thoughts into proper sentences. Ignoring Zell's belligerent demands, he remained in the doorway, waiting. Zell seemed to have momentarily forgotten about him, slumping down a bit further against the side of the tub and giving a forlorn little sigh. He didn't look to be going anywhere soon, and Seifer was finding himself at the end of his dangerously-strained patience. Amusing as he was finding this situation, it was getting old fast.

He approached the tub and knelt down next to Zell, hauling the other boy up on his shoulder with a gentleness that belied the grimace of irritation on his face. Zell swayed, steadied himself, and after a short moment, seemed inclined to cooperate with Seifer, who cautiously began to lead him back toward the bed. "Hate bein' drunk," He declared at the doorway, throwing his hands up dramatically. Seifer shook his head, trying to withhold a smirk - Zell was unexpectedly humorous when he was sauced, although he was sure the instructor would be none too pleased to hear that from him.

"Why the fuck'd you start drinking, then?"

"Had no choice," Zell huffed. "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

Seifer tried not to show his surprise. _Well now, isn't _that_interesting,_ he thought to himself, absentmindedly wondering just what kinds of thoughts Zell might be having about him that he couldn't get out of his head... and the stream of images that brought to mind was so disturbingly raunchy that he found himself growing hot, and he unceremoniously dumped Zell at the edge of his bed, ignoring the martial artist's angry exclamation at such treatment, and skittered back a few feet, anxious to put some space between Zell and himself.

"Why are you helping me?" Zell mumbled, flopping onto the mattress with a commendable amount of grace considering how very drunk he still was. Seifer frowned in thought at the question.

"Just trying to return a favor," he answered.

"When did I ever do you a favor?" With a fair amount of effort, Zell pulled himself into a sitting position, grasping one foot and tugging at his trainer to try and remove it. Seifer watched him attempt this, stifling a snicker as Zell proceeded with the task first with frustration and then anger, before finally realizing that his sneakers needed to be untied before they could be taken off.

"You never were the brightest crayon in the box, were you, Dincht?" Seifer smirked.

"Y'know," Zell said in response, not with indignation as he usually did to the gunblader's taunts, but with a creepy, uncharacteristic collectedness as he successfully divested himself of his shoes and threw them to the floor. "I don't think you hate me as much as you pretend to."

"Why would you think that?" Seifer asked.

"Dunno." The martial artist yawned, stretching his arms over his head and looking sleepy, but somewhat more lucid than he had the whole night so far. "Jes' it seems like you wouldn't be helpin' me out if you really hated me. You'd just've left me layin' on the stairs and laughed 'bout it. So I don't think you really _hate_ me."

Seifer was quiet, mulling this over. Zell was far too mentally coherent for someone who had been, just a little while ago, too drunk to even traverse a set of stairs without help. The older boy took a step toward the bed, folding his arms over his chest and smiling disarmingly down at the other. "You might just be on to something there, Dincht."

"Eh?" Zell didn't appear to have expected an affirmative answer, and his brow creased in concentration before he realized, with a slight start, what Seifer meant. "S... Seifer. Don't joke 'bout summin like that."

"Who's joking?"

"Seifer," Zell repeated his name, standing on wobbly legs and facing his rival down, albeit slightly blearily. "I mean it, don't fuck wi' me. I don't like you."

"I'm not fucking with you, chicken-wuss," Seifer said quietly, leaning forward until there was hardly space to breathe between him and Zell. The martial artist looked highly affronted and, the gunblader couldn't help but think, slightly scared at Seifer's implication; _time to go in for the kill,_ Seifer grinned. "I _don't_ hate you. In fact, I like you. What do you have to say about that?"

_He really is quite cute when he's angry,_ the gunblader thought to himself, just before Zell's fist gave him all the answer he needed.

If there was one thing Seifer hated more than being woken up too early, it was being woken up too early by the shrill ringing of his telephone. No, check that; it was being woken up too early by the shrill ringing of his telephone with a mammoth of a headache. Just why his head was pounding harder than a T-rexaur trying to crack a raldo's shell was yet a mystery to him, but trying to think only made the pain worse, so he immediately stopped. Groping blindly about next to him, his hand collided with the leg of his bedside table, and he yanked the phone down off it and snarled his greeting in the form of the most hostile and unfriendly "What the hell do you want?" that he could manage without actual mental exertion.

There was a fairly long pause on the other end of the line. "Pardon me?"

"Leonhart?" Seifer growled. There were few people in the world he wanted to hear from less at that particular moment. "Where the fuck do you get off calling me at this shitty hour?"

Another considerably longer and discernibly trepidatious pause. Then, "Seifer?"

Seifer's heart stopped. _Oh, fuck._ He sat bolt upright, ignoring the throbbing inside his skull, and opened his eyes to see that, yes, he was still in Zell's dorm room, and yes, he had just answered Zell's phone to a call from their headmaster. His stomach seemed to momentarily vanish as he silently panicked. He had completely forgotten where he was. Well, it could have been worse, he supposed - it could have been Quistis.

Hardly missing a beat, he barked into the phone, "Yeah, who the fuck'd you think it would be?" In response, there was only another lengthy silence, and Seifer hoped against hope that Squall would buy into his gruffness enough to assume that he'd simply dialed a wrong number and not think overmuch about why Seifer was answering when he'd expected Zell. While he was certainly not against the spreading of rumors - for the right purposes, at least - the very last thing he needed just now was anyone else looking into the extent of his relationship with Zell, or suspiciously pointed lack thereof.

"I'm sorry," Squall said after a moment, his tone flat and not at all indicative that he was, in fact, sorry, "I must have dialed wrong. I apologize."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again," Seifer grumbled, hanging up before the other had a chance to respond to this, and thrusting the phone back into its dock as if it were tainted. He got shakily to his feet, momentarily forgetting about the stabbing headache lingering behind his eyes as he focused on a more immediate, much more precarious problem; this was the second time in recent weeks that he'd woken up on the floor of Zell's bedroom, although at least this time he was in a comparatively better state than the last time. He remembered having brought Zell back to his room and, with some effort, getting the drunken boy to bed, and the last thing he could recall was Zell decking him - and deservedly so. Well, at least that explained why his head hurt so damn much.

He looked around to find Zell, fast asleep, sprawled over the bed, clutching a pillow over his face; he was bare-chested, prompting Seifer to wonder just when the martial artist had been clearheaded enough to undress himself - and to be thankful that Zell had only gotten halfway done before passing out; he was, at least, still wearing pants. The gunblader was struck by how very small the younger boy looked; Zell had never been large by any means, but considering his strength, he was deceptively slight. Of course, fifty percent of his strength was purely skill - Seifer knew firsthand how little physical bulk accounted for when Zell could usually drop him before he even got close to landing a hit on the other blonde - but he was still a good deal stronger than your average person, hell, even your average SeeD, and his physique just didn't reflect that. Seifer's gaze wandered down from the line of Zell's collarbone over a well-sculpted but not overly-muscled torso, and was lingering on the sight of a slender, defined waist and the tantalizing ridge of hipbone peeking out of the edge of his jeans when the phone shrilled again, jerking him from his daze.

Feeling unnaturally hot and trying to stifle the startlingly lewd images that were popping up in the back of his mind, he strode quickly to the side of the bed, shaking Zell by the shoulder rather more vigorously than was probably called for to wake him, while the phone continued to ring. Presuming it was Squall again - because who else would it be, really? - Seifer was certainly not planning to answer it; Zell, however, was not stirring, swatting idly over his shoulder as the ex-knight continued to try to wake him, and Seifer was quickly losing patience. Snatching the phone up from its holder, he grabbed hold of a corner of the pillow Zell was clinging to with all his might and yanked on it hard enough to send the martial artist flying off the bed, and he thrust the phone into Zell's hand before hissing at him, "Answer your goddamn phone, dipshit!"

"Uhhhh?" answered Zell, staring blankly at the device in his hand for a moment before bringing it to his ear. "H'lo?"

Resisting the urge to roar, Seifer moved to the other side of the room and began to pace, half-listening to Zell's side of the conversation. "Err, Squall, g'morning, wassup?" the blonde mumbled absentmindedly as he looked around, as though trying to figure out where he was and what he was doing there. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, still looking quite confused, until he caught sight of Seifer on the opposite side of the room, and he seemed to suddenly become aware of what was going on - he stifled his surprise admirably well, however, in Seifer's opinion, ruffling his hair and speaking into the phone, "Yeah, sorry, I was sleepin', don't worry about it."

There was a pause. Seifer watched the other boy intently, waiting for any sign that Squall was inquiring about him or that Zell was going to let something slip, but the next thing the instructor said was, "It's what time?!" and he fumbled for the little alarm clock on his bedside table, peering closely at it - something that Seifer had not, in fact, thought to do, and he could see when Zell replaced the clock on the table with a heavy sigh that it was nearly 11:30; and even Seifer, late sleeper though he was, would normally have been up by now, which made what he'd said to Squall earlier all the more suspicious. "Err, yeah, I had a late night is all. I didn't realize what time it was..." Zell was saying now, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin that was wasted on Squall, who couldn't see it.

"Ah... sure, I can be round in a half hour or so, is that okay?" He nodded into the phone at whatever Squall was saying, his expression quickly morphing from abashed to despondent and growing more so with each second. "Sure, sure. Er, your office or your room? Right... see you," He ended with a very forced chipperness, and a few moments went by before he hung up with a decidedly gloomy sigh and promptly flung the phone across the room, narrowly missing beaning Seifer in the forehead - which, judging by the downright sinister look in his baby blue eyes, was probably his intent. He jumped to his feet, casting away the pillow he'd been inattentively clutching in his free hand, and Seifer was almost expecting him to charge first and ask questions later, he looked so furious; but neither of them moved for a few long minutes.

"Why are you in my room?" was the first thing Zell asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stared at Seifer. The gunblader smirked.

"What, you don't remember?" He practically purred, mimicking Zell's casual coolness from their last drunken encounter - his own. Zell was not amused.

"I'm not in the mood for your fuckin' head games, Almasy!" he shouted, sweeping his arms dramatically about. "Just answer the damn question!"

"I brought you here last night," Seifer said flatly as thought it should have been quite obvious, his every word dripping with disdain. "I found you outside. I figured it would be a shame to just leave you there to get discovered by security, seeing as you're the only person in this prison who will spar with me since Leonhart stopped obliging-"

"I don't give a fuck about your motives, arsehole," Zell cut him off mid-sentence, a flash of ambivalence fleetingly crossing his expression, as if he were having doubts - as if he _did_, in fact, want to know Seifer's motives - but he quashed it, continuing gruffly, "Just tell me what happened. _Quietly_, please."

"I brought you to your room. I got you inside - with absolutely no help on your behalf, I might add," the elder remarked with just a touch of irritation lacing his voice. "You puked. You shouted at me for a while. I tried to get you to bed, and you slugged me. That's as far as _I_ can remember."

Zell nodded absently, making a face that suggested he was trying very determinedly to recall that that was really what had happened. He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Where's my shirt?"

"I don't know. Last I remember you were still wearing it." Seifer shrugged. Zell didn't look at all assured by this statement, but he didn't dwell on it. He was silent in thought for another moment or two, and to Seifer's relief, he didn't seem to be having any ideas of his own - he looked to be taking the older boy's word as truth, since he clearly could not remember any of the previous night by himself. The memories of the kiss and Seifer's taunting confession were lost to the depths of his liquor-drenched mind, and unless the gunblader did anything to jar said memories - and short of kissing Zell or confessing again, both events which he planned to prevent at any cost, Seifer didn't imagine anything _could_ - with some luck, Zell would never remember just what had gone on while he was drunk that night.

"Are you sure that's all that happened?" Zell asked once more.

"Who do you think you're talking to here, Dincht?" Seifer growled. "And by the way, I totally resent the implication."

"Shut up," Zell interrupted, waving at the ex-knight in a very vague manner and moving to sit heavily on the edge of the bed, clutching his head in both hands. He sighed. "Uhhh. I feel so shitty. I never drink. I hate drinking."

Seifer loitered by the door, stuffing his hands down into his pockets and feeling slightly awkward - he wasn't sure if Zell was talking to himself, but regardless, he ventured to ask, "Then why did you?"

Zell shot him a chilling glare, ruffling his hair over his face the next moment, presumably to hide the blush that was spreading like a stain over his cheeks, to Seifer's slight surprise - he recalled that the martial artist had said something to the effect that he was having thoughts about Seifer the previous night when the elder had posed the same question, and Zell's reaction to it now only solidified Seifer's suspicions that said thoughts were not at all innocent. He tried to hide a smirk as the younger boy snapped back at him, "None of your damn business, that's why!"

"Hm," was all Seifer said in response.

Both were quiet for a few minutes, aside from the occasional pained grunt on Zell's part as he massaged his forehead with trembling hands. Then, quite suddenly, he jumped up from the bed, jabbing an accusatory finger in Seifer's direction, although he avoided meeting the other's eyes as he snarled, "You! Don't go anywhere! I'm jumping in the shower, but you had fucking well better be here when I get out; I'm not finished with you!"

"Ooh, is that a promise?" Seifer hummed, and was rewarded with the vision of Zell turning scarlet in fury before he fled into the other room and slammed the door shut with enough force to jolt the books on the shelves. The gunblader smirked to himself; teasing Zell just never got old - although he found that he was enjoying it far more now that he could fully appreciate just how fetching his rival grew when he was in a seething rage; that rich, deep shade of red he attained when Seifer hit a particularly sensitive nerve became him rather well, the elder thought. And if Zell knew what kinds of diabolical intentions were lurking beneath Seifer's witty taunts and retorts, rage would be the least of it; hell, he would probably sooner tear Seifer limb from limb with his bare hands than let the other man near him if he knew what wicked schemes were being devised behind green eyes.

He continued to grin smugly to himself while from behind the closed door the sounds of running water and Zell clattering about in the cabinets could be heard. Things appeared to be looking up... and in more ways that one...

"...It's fairly straightforward, as you can see; at least as far as your objective goes," Squall concluded, handing the folder he'd been leafing through for the past five minutes over the desk to Zell, who put his all into appearing enthusiastic as he received it. "The hard part is going to be finding someone for you to partner up with, but I've got Xu working on it. Frankly, we're short of good SeeDs right now, and this mission requires a certain skill set..."

"Uh-huh," Zell nodded and hummed his way through the conversation, paying only minimal attention as he browsed the files that detailed the mission he was going to be taking, and doing a good job of pretending to follow Squall when his mind was actually quite otherwise occupied. The mission was about as uncomplicated as they came - simple bodyguard work - and just as soon as Zell had grasped that concept, he proceeded to fade out of the conversation, content to allow Squall to talk on while he himself lingered over a few thoughts that had been stuck firmly in the back of his mind since earlier that morning... thoughts that all had to do with a certain gunblade-wielding hunk and his unnerving continual presence in Zell's head.

He gritted his teeth, irritated just remembering their earlier encounter - he hadn't been entirely surprised to find Seifer gone when he finally emerged, overcautious and somewhat leery, from his shower; of course, he shouldn't have expected Seifer to listen to him, but it grated nonetheless. What was more aggravating, though, was trying to suss out Seifer's motives, mostly because he simply _couldn't_ - nothing Seifer had related to him about the previous night had sounded fishy, which in itself was fishy.

He could vaguely remember meeting the gunblader on the outside steps to Garden and bits and pieces of his memory connected the rest; Seifer had helped him inside, brought him to his dorm (although how they got in the room Zell thought he'd like to know; he didn't recall having told the other boy his keycode,) and they had been fighting about something; after that his memory was a void. It seemed odd to him that Seifer would do anything to help him without trying to take advantage of his drunken and therefore highly susceptible state in the process... but then, Zell suddenly realized, even if nothing suspicious _had_ happened, it was also extremely suspect of Seifer to _admit_ so; it was certainly not below the ex-knight to pretend that he'd done something just to get a rise out of Zell. No matter which way he thought about it, the entire confrontation was strange, and Seifer's disappearing before Zell even got a chance to interrogate him more thoroughly only made his involvement that much shadier.

"Will you be ready to go by then?" Squall asked, cutting into his thoughts.

"Oh, sure," Zell replied automatically, noting with a glance down at the mission file that his departure date would be in eight days, which gave him plenty enough time to finish up any outstanding professorial duties or find coverage for his classes during his absence - not that he needed to do either, since he didn't teach any courses over the summer. In his opinion, eight days wasn't soon enough; he was finding himself eager to get away from Garden and everything - or every_one_ - therein for a while; it would practically be a vacation. Hell, after being dogged and tormented by Seifer on a daily basis for near on a month now, getting to trail around after some political celebrity in Deling City for a few weeks _would_ be a vacation.

"Good. I'll let General Caraway know," the brunette replied, startling Zell out of his reverie again. He blinked, trying not to show surprise, and glanced down once more at the papers in his hand.

"As in Rinoa's old man...?" He murmured, the question not particularly directed at Squall, but caught nevertheless. Of course, if he'd been paying attention at all to what Squall had been telling him, he would have known that the young heiress he had been assigned to keep an eye on was the General's new wife; _Oh well, I know now,_ he thought to himself. Squall shot him probing look.

"He specifically requested our best," the commander said somewhat frostily. "I'll let you know as soon as I've found your teammate - unless you can suggest anyone?"

Zell shook his head, coming up blank, and Squall shrugged as if he had expected such an answer. The headmaster went back to his paperwork then, and Zell, recognizing this as the gesture of dismissal that it was, exited the office with the file in hand, making his way leisurely toward the elevator; he was still, after all, not feeling his best, and rightly so considering the state he'd woken up in earlier in the morning. Thinking about that, however, led him to thinking about other things that had happened that morning, things which he was quite determined to put far from mind - at least until he was well away from Garden and certain inquisitive colleagues who liked to nose into his business.

He sighed, giving a little smile as the elevator arrived and he stepped on, jabbing the 1F button with his thumb. Just think, a whole month away from Garden, away from students, away from work, and most importantly, away from Seifer! This mission couldn't begin soon enough...


	7. Chapter 7

The sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon, tinting the lower lip of the clear, slate-coloured skyline a gentle, rosy pink, as Quistis stepped out onto the balcony, the warm breeze whipping her hair about her face and into her eyes as she gave a quiet sigh. There was a moderate throbbing in her temples and behind her eyes, but it was nothing compared to the bully of a headache she'd woken up with the previous day after stumbling home from Rinoa's beach party in the wee hours of the morning. Why she'd let the young sorceress persuade her to drink was a mystery to her; she had only gone to the party in the first place to keep an eye on Zell, and possibly to try and extort some information out of him while he was under the influence; Zell, however, had been unusually strict with both his conversation and his drink, and he had disappeared not long after they arrived, and that had been the last Quistis saw of him.

She wandered over to the edge of the balcony, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and sliding one out between her lips. She knew Zell had gotten back to Garden safely yesterday; she had seen him drifting greenly down the hallway that afternoon, looking quite ill, but she, still feeling rather sickly herself, hadn't stopped to chat or inquire where he'd been. It was what he'd been up to between when she'd lost him at the party and when he'd reappeared the next afternoon that she was curious about - and she was determined to find out, too; just not right then, when she was feeling so very out of sorts. She lit up and sucked down a hearty lungful of smoke, exhaling slowly through her teeth and leaning far out over the edge of the balcony.

She smoked silently for a few minutes, letting the breeze clear her head. After crawling back into her bed at the crack of dawn yesterday morning, she'd only dozed for a few hours before she was awoken by Xu, who needed some help finding a candidate for an assignment; by the time she was finished looking over Xu's list and making her suggestions, it was well past noon, and on the way back to her room (with every intention of locking and barricading the door and becoming a hermit for quite some time) she was called out by Garden administration, who had a few choice words to say to her and several other instructors concerning the unseemly behavior of a number of students who had apparently returned home early Sunday morning in various states of inebriation - and Quistis noted that she and Zell were not the only two looking sheepish after that meeting; she had seen a fair few of her colleagues wandering through the dunes with brightly-coloured drinks in their hands that night, although none of them had taken it quite as far as she did, and Zell, to go by the sickly shade of celadon his complexion had taken on by the time they were released from the meeting an hour and a half later, was even worse off. As if that weren't enough, though, she'd only just gotten back to her room when she remembered that she had volunteered to review and update the entrance exams for the coming school year; she'd been putting it off for some time with the intention of getting a free weekend and devoting the whole two days to getting everything up to snuff - she had, in fact, specifically finished all her other work early and rescheduled all her appointments in order to have _this_ weekend free to do just that, until Rinoa's party got in the way of that plan - but it was getting dangerously close to fall already and she knew that Squall wouldn't tolerate any tardiness when it came to so important a task, so, with a freshly-brewed pot of coffee at hand, she sat down to start on it, and it was nearly dawn by the time she finally finished and trudged, puffy-eyed and wanting nothing more than a nice, long hibernation, up to the balcony for some fresh air.

She finished off her first cigarette and tossed the stub out into the void beyond the edge of the balcony, promptly fingering another one out of the pack and lighting it up. Class in less than two hours, too; not even enough time for a decent catnap if there was to be any hope of making herself look halfway presentable before the day began, if such a thing were any longer possible. She sighed deeply, staring out over the plains of Timber and feeling calm as she watched the grass ripple and coruscate in the light of the slowly-rising sun. Maybe she could just take a sickie. She was pondering the pros and cons of it when she realized, with a start, that there was someone standing beside her... and, with a greater start, that it was Seifer, leaning casually against the banister a few feet away, a cigarette perched between his lips as he smirked imperiously upon her noticing him. "Fancy seeing you here, instructor," he remarked coolly, taking a long drag and blowing it out the corner of his mouth.

"Seifer...!" Quistis huffed, putting a hand to her rapidly-beating heart. "You scared me half to death...!"

"Hmm," Seifer replied, cocking an eyebrow. "Long night?"

The instructor felt colour rise to her cheeks, noticing that he was staring pointedly at her arms which she had crossed behind her back in order to hide her cigarette - which was silly for a number of reasons, not least because she had a feeling that Seifer had been standing there for a good deal longer a time than she'd noticed and it was simply naive to hope that he hadn't seen her smoking. Besides, he was breaking a school rule just as much as she was, so there was no point in pulling the Good Role Model card on her now. "You've no idea," She answered with another sigh, pulling on her cigarette again and rubbing tired eyes with her free hand. Seifer only nodded, and to her surprise left it at that - actually, he looked very preoccupied and, Quistis noted as she glanced him over, somewhat haggard, as thought he, too, had had a long night. They both smoked in silence for a minute - Seifer didn't seem to have come out here with the express purpose of bothering her in mind; in fact, he had probably not expected anyone to be up and about so early - Quistis certainly hadn't.

"How did you get out here?" She asked with a slight frown.

"You left the door open."

"Ah," she conceded, finishing off her second cigarette and thinking for a few moments over whether it would be prudent to have a third. Biting her lip, she looked over at Seifer again, a thought occurring. "Nice shiner you've got there," she remarked nonchalantly, and Seifer reached up - perhaps subconsciously - to gently touch the dark circle ringing his left eye.

"Thanks," He said gruffly, turning the other way.

"That looks like Zell's handiwork," She went on blithely, pulling out another white stick and bringing it to her lips, striving for indifference even as she noted that Seifer had tensed up, staring the other way - she could tell she was getting into a sore subject, but curiosity overcame her aversion to angering Seifer and she went on, "That's a shame. I'd thought perhaps you two were getting on better lately."

"We get on just fine, thanks," Seifer replied stiffly.

"Is that right? Well, that's a relief," She smiled, as if reassured. "But then I have to wonder what you two were fighting about that Zell would hit you..."

"Don't," the gunblader warned, but Quistis took no heed.

"I mean, if you two really are getting on fine like you say, then it must have been something important to make you fight..."

"Damnit, Trepe," Seifer growled, sighing out a cloud of smoke that lingered in the dusky air for moments before dissipating in the breeze. "Even if it was any of your fucking business at all, what makes you think I'd want to talk to _you_ about my problems?"

"Problems?" Quistis pounced, and Seifer blinked, as though mentally backtracking and realizing what he'd just said - although the expression on his face said much, _much_ more than what he'd just let slip with words. He turned away again, puffing quickly on his cigarette and evidently intending to ignore her, probably in the hopes that she would leave the subject be, though the silly boy certainly should have known better. If Seifer and Zell had regressed back to fist-fighting, Quistis wanted to know why; and the fact that Seifer didn't want her to know - seemed, actually, to be _ashamed_ of - whatever it was they had fought about meant that it _was_important and something, therefore, that Quistis wanted to get a bead on. For years, the pair's bickering had been just a part of their daily ritual; white noise that nobody even gave a second thought to because it was so familiar. One thing it had definitely never been, however, was _serious_, and Quistis was quite determined now to get to the bottom of what had caused this sudden change. A serious fight implied a serious relationship, but of what kind, she was sure she didn't know.

The quiet stretched on, broken only intermittently by the fluttering of a small flock of birds overhead, eddying and breaking, cloud-like, around them. Seifer had moved on to his second cigarette, and Quistis fingered the few left in her own pack, thinking on how to best approach the subject - she had a feeling that openly accusing Seifer of having a secret relationship with Zell was not the best way to get him to open up about whatever _was_ really going on. Not that she really thought that's what was going on - but then, it could make sense... No, it was simply too strange; even supposing that both Zell and Seifer were inclined toward such a relationship, which Quistis was not at all prepared to believe was the case, the idea that the two of them could be anything other than the enemies they had always been (though on a comparatively less volatile scale after the war, until recently, that is,) was little more than absurd. But it _could_ make sense, that was the weirdest part. After all, who knew what Zell had gotten up to in the twelve or so hours between when he'd departed, drunk as a loon, from Rinoa's party and when he'd reappeared early the next afternoon? It was entirely possible that he and Seifer had had some kind of run-in; the gunblader had made a habit of being out and about after hours, and Quistis couldn't see him happening upon a very drunk and susceptible Zell wandering the grounds and just leaving the other boy be. And perhaps that's what had got him punched in the eye.

Quistis scoffed quietly to herself; her imagination was getting the better of her. To think that Seifer would try and make a move on Zell! More likely than not, he was simply being his usual arsehole self and Zell had not been able to resist the urge to deck him, which she understood quite well; it was only with a great deal of difficulty that she herself was able to keep from smacking Seifer around sometimes, he irritated her so. She watched from the corner of her eye as Seifer eased a third cigarette out of his own pack, lighting it with the glowing end of his second.

"What I don't understand," She began after a few moments, earning Seifer's attention back as he turned to look over at her putting on her best curiously-thoughtful expression. "Well," she went on, abandoning her first train of thought and going for a different one, "The great thing about Zell is that everyone likes him. He's one of those people who can be friends with everyone, you know? Except for you, of course."

Seifer shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets as he puffed on his cigarette. Quistis pursed her lips tightly. "I suppose you just rub each other the wrong way," she offered.

"Oh, you've no idea," He mumbled, so quietly that he probably didn't think she could hear - but hear, she certainly did, and she didn't miss the smirk that flashed across his face, either, even if it was only for a split second; she turned away, not knowing how to reply to what was clearly a blatant sexual innuendo, although Seifer, who was staring off into the distance and appeared to be quite occupied with his own thoughts, didn't seem to even realize - not for the first time during their conversation - what he'd just said. And that smirk was gone as quickly as it had come, but it told Quistis everything she needed to know about just what Seifer was thinking, and she was shocked by the implication... oh, sure, she'd entertained more than a few wild ideas about Seifer and Zell and their unusually turbulent behavior toward each other over the past months, but not _seriously_... they couldn't _really_...

She decided to try again. "Couldn't you just try?"

"Is it really that hard, Trepe, I mean, would it _kill_ you to just mind your own fucking business for once?" He snapped.

"Well, I just don't understand why you can't at least _try_ to be friends with Zell. No one else finds it difficult, you know," she replied with only the merest hint of embarrassment. Seifer, his jaw clenched tight around the burnt-out stub of his cigarette, was quiet, clearly angry but also, underneath that, pensive. He tossed the cigarette butt out over the railing, making a soft sound under his breath - was that a _sigh_? - and turning to face Quistis, though not looking at her.

"I'm not interested in being friends with Zell," was the answer he gave, fishing in his pocket for his lighter as he placed another smoke between his lips while Quistis, feeling suddenly very abashed by what he'd said - or rather, what he _hadn't_ exactly said - turned the other way, at a loss for a response. That reply, though not suspicious in itself as Seifer had never been seen to express any wish of becoming friends with anyone, had a distinct and unsettling undertone of _I want _more_than that_ to it, and Quistis was damned if she knew what to make of that.

She cleared her throat, now plenty more than bewildered but striving not to show the gunblader that, if he was even paying her enough attention to notice such a thing, which she wasn't inclined to believe considering some of the things he'd let slip already. Then again, nobody who knew Seifer at all would put any stock in the notion that he could have feelings for Zell, of all people, so he couldn't have expected her to do so. "Zell?"

He spared her a brief, irritated glance. "Yeah, isn't that who we're talking about?"

"No, I mean, yes, it's just..." She paused, thoughtful. "I'm not sure I've ever heard you call him that."

He blinked, caught off-guard, and his reaction was all Quistis needed to see - that small, simple action spoke volumes about Seifer's state of mind, and everything fell into place. Before she could gather her thoughts, however, he barked at her, "Are you going to smoke or not? Because if you're not, why don't you fuck off elsewhere and let me think in peace."

"Well, if you wanted me to drop the subject, all you had to do was say so," she said with a cocky little grin that she knew would only infuriate Seifer more as she lit up again, if only to give herself an excuse to stay outside and badger him some more - now that she had a fair idea of what was really going on, she was not going to let such a good opportunity as this was to wheedle some information about the gunblader's personal life out of him go by. She exhaled, casting her gaze out over the plains and the forests, treetops glittering in the light of the slowly-rising sun, the mist that lingered on the ground gradually dissolving with the coming of day. "I didn't see you at Rinoa's party this weekend," she remarked.

"What?" Seifer yipped, his tone laced thickly with irritation. Quistis frowned, adopting a look of confusion.

"Rinoa's beach party? You didn't go? I thought for sure she'd have tried to invite you," the instructor replied offhandedly.

"She probably would have tried if I hadn't been doing my best to avoid her," Seifer explained. Then he gave Quistis a probing sideways look, and added, "Is that why you look so like shit this morning?"

"Ex_cuse_ me?" she huffed, but without much real feeling - she couldn't fault Seifer for speaking the truth, after all. "The party was Saturday night, for your information. I look like shit _today_ for an entirely different reason," She went on tiredly, scowling as Seifer grinned at her admission, clearly amused.

"Saturday night, hm," he said absently, sucking a last lungful of smoke from his cigarette and then flicking it away. "So what were you doing there, instructor? Breaking it up?"

"Please," Quistis scoffed, rubbing her eyes wearily. "_I_ only went because Rinoa wanted me to bring Zell. My idea of a good time is not to spend it with a bunch of teenagers at a beach party on a Saturday night," she tutted. She smoked, exhaling deeply, and giving the gunblader a quick, studying glance; he appeared to be lost in thought, and she watched him for a moment or two.

"Don't you think Dincht's a little _old_ for a chaperone?" Seifer asked.

"I wasn't _chaperoning_. It wasn't my idea to force him to that party. Rinoa wanted to set him up with a bunch of her dimwitted friends," Quistis lied, putting on her best aggravated front, while she watched out of the corner of her eye as Seifer pieced things together - his face, though he couldn't have realized it, was completely giving him away; she could pinpoint the exact moment everything clicked into place in Seifer's mind, and it was only then that she allowed herself, as well, to fit everything together.

Seifer and Zell had something more going on than met the eye, that much was obvious. They had evidently had an altercation of some sort after Zell left that party Saturday night, and had fought about something, which is where Seifer got himself that lovely black eye. But whatever it was they had together, it seemed that Seifer wanted more - could that be what they had fought about? Could he be... Quistis paused in her thought for a moment, struck by the complete and utter strangeness of what she wanted to ask herself, but she wondered on; could Seifer be in love with Zell? Was that even possible? It was plausible, certainly; Seifer, out of bed and wandering the grounds in the middle of the night as he was wont to do, coming upon a very tanked up Zell and, probably half-exasperated and half-amused, helping the blonde back to his room, where they had... Quistis puffed on her cigarette, shaking that image out of her head; it was too much for her. But the rest she could picture easily. Zell, sobering up, Seifer, angry, frustrated, sick of waiting, completely disregarding tact in bringing it up... love. Bringing something like that into the equation, depending on Zell's mood at the time, could easily merit a good sock in the eye, if not more.

Yes, the situation was entirely plausible, but was it _possible_? Could Seifer be in love - _in love_ - with Zell? How would such a thing even come to happen? How did the two of them come to be in this sort of situation in the first place? That was the biggest mystery of all, wasn't it? That Seifer and Zell, of all people, could be...

"Something on your mind, instructor?" Seifer cut into her deliberation sharply, and she startled, the cigarette butt that had burnt out some time ago dropping from her lips.

"No...! Sorry...! I... daydreaming," She stammered as an excuse, blinking and trying to straighten out her muddled thoughts. "Sorry, I'm not quite lucid, I've been up all night. I'd better go..."

Seifer nodded, uninterested, watching her as she trailed off. He didn't suspect, did he? Was it obvious she had figured him out? Rubbing her tired eyes, she gave a quiet groan; she was acting silly, he couldn't possibly know. But all the same, he was watching her. She offered a weak smile, and, tucking her packet of cigarettes down the front of her shirt for hiding, she headed back inside, trying to put both Zell and Seifer far from her already too-stressed thoughts. Something would have to be done, of course; an intervention of sorts - not that she wanted to meddle in other people's business; she just wanted to make sure Zell knew what he was doing and that whatever went on between the two of them, no matter the outcome, wasn't going to affect his work or his position at Garden. But that, needless to say, would at least have to wait until she got some sleep...

Seifer smirked to himself, lighting up a fresh cigarette, as he watched Quistis shuffle wearily out the door, but not before shooting one last worried, uneasy glance over her shoulder at him, which he did his best to pretend not to notice, trying to appear quite immersed in thought, at least until he heard the door click shut. He allowed himself a short laugh; Quistis was really too easy. A little sexual insinuation here, a few slips of the tongue there, lace the whole conversation with an undertone of thinly-veiled emotional frustration; just imagine, if she hadn't run away so quickly, what he could have had her believing. She was probably running off to Dincht's room at this very moment to give him a good talking-to about the dangers of playing around with someone's feelings. It hadn't been in the plan, of course, to let Quistis in on his little "project"... but it probably couldn't do any harm to lead her on a bit, in any case. If anything, she deserved it for being so damn meddlesome. He knew exactly what was going to happen; Quistis would find some way to bring this up to Zell, who would get furious over it and set her straight before, presumably, finding Seifer to lay into him in retaliation for his rumor-mongering - which would be only to Seifer's benefit in the long run; after such a scene, Quistis would never again believe anything he'd have to say on the subject of himself and Zell, and since it was still in his plan to seduce Zell at some point, securing beforehand the assurance that no one would _believe_ that's what was really going worked out perfectly to his advantage.

The next move, however, was Zell's. Seifer grinned to himself, leaning back against the railing with a contented sigh. Now it was just a matter or waiting...

"You're shifting your weight too early," Zell was explaining, offering his hand to the young student laying at his feet in the dirt who was grinning despite the fact that he'd just been knocked on his arse with extremely little effort on the instructor's part. "I can tell where you're going before you've even moved."

"Sorry," the cadet, a tall, svelte boy with the look of someone who was working very hard not to be weedy, staggered to his feet, wincing as he kneaded his stomach where Zell had gutted him, but Quistis didn't think he looked particularly put-off by the outcome of the spar as she watched the interaction from the other side of the training center. She couldn't help but smile; Zell's students adored him and it was obvious to everyone except, perhaps, Zell himself that they greatly enjoyed pulling his leg, although he would make them pay for it later.

"Don't apologize to me," Zell said with a shrug. "You're the one who's getting beaten up," he added, nodding toward Quistis as he happened to look up and notice her, and he motioned to his students to stay put before trotting across the room to join her. "Hey, what's up?" He said in greeting, lifting the hem of his tee-shirt to wipe a sheen of sweat from his forehead, revealing a flat, tanned stomach. Quistis hesitated before answering, biting her lip contemplatively; Zell looked to be in a good mood, which was certainly to her advantage if she didn't want this conversation to blow up in her face.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your class or anything," She said at length, offering an apologetic shrug. "I have something I want to talk to you about, but of course it can wait until you're done."

"Oh? Okay, well, I'll be finished in a few minutes, if you don't mind waiting," he explained, flashing a grin as Quistis nodded to acknowledge that she would. But he paused as he turned to go, and then said a bit hesitantly, "Is everything okay? You look kinda troubled."

"Well, there is something I'm worried about, to be honest," she admitted hesitantly. Zell's expression almost at once turned dark, and he frowned, looking not at her but at a spot somewhere over her right shoulder.

"Seifer," He said quietly.

Quistis blinked, taken quite aback. She was about to ask how he knew what she meant to say - he must already have known that she was aware of his and Seifer's situation, but how, she couldn't bother to wonder right now - when she was distracted, and startled, by a presence just behind her.

"Good morning, instructors," Seifer purred, an elusive smirk dancing over his lips. Zell was staring daggers at the gunblader, whose expression was completely unreadable - how long had he been standing there? What had he heard? That cocky grin of his told Quistis nothing; she couldn't tell if he knew what was going on or if he was just being his usual antagonistic self and trying to rile Zell up by coming in there and purposely singling her fellow teacher and herself out. Thinking fast, she decided to intervene before Zell and Seifer could get into one of their famous brawls, and opened her mouth to reply to the ex-knight's greeting, but Zell beat her to speaking.

"So, Squall finally let you out to play?" The martial artist snipped, rather coldly in Quistis' opinion, pointedly eyeing the gunblade Seifer was wielding; it would appear that he had come to the training center in order to, well, train, but Quistis had a distinct feeling that that was just a front and that he had in fact come with a specific purpose, of which provoking Zell seemed to be a key component, seeing as he hadn't wasted any time in getting to that.

"Fancy a match, chicken-wuss?" Seifer replied with an easy grin.

"I'll pass. I wouldn't want to put you out of commission," Zell shrugged.

"Big talk from someone who _failed_ the prerequisite course for gunblade training," was Seifer's casual answer, and, to Quistis' surprise, Zell cracked a smile at this - a strained, forced smile, more telling of his anger than anything else, but it was still better than a punch, which was what she was expecting would come next in the exchange.

"You're nothing without that big fuck-off sword, Almasy, and you know it."

Seifer's grin stiffened just a bit, and then, never once breaking Zell's stare, he brought his gunblade out to his side and threw it to the ground, holding his arms out in what was clearly a challenge. "If you're not careful, Dincht, I might think you're _looking_ for a fight."

"Come on, now, you two, can't you cool it for just one day?" Quistis tried to interject, but her plea went completely ignored. Seifer hadn't paid her a moment of attention since he entered the training center, and Zell, likewise, seemed to have forgotten about her presence in light of more pressing matters - he looked, in fact, quite cheerful at the prospect of a fight, bouncing on the balls of his feet and bringing his hands up in front of himself in battle stance.

"Bring it on, Almasy," was his response, his grin confident and excited.

"Maybe your students will finally get to see what a real fight looks like."

"Zell, please-!" Quistis cried, but it was too late; that last provocation had evidently been the last straw, and Zell launched himself at his rival, fists flying. His moves were permeated with the swift rapidity of rage; he wasn't fighting with any calculated pattern, but merely with anger, which Quistis knew was not something he was often prone to doing. Still, Seifer was keeping up with him - extremely well, she had to admit, and there weren't many who could stay ahead of Zell when he got serious in a fight - he was only just managing to defend himself against Zell's lightning-quick strikes, but he _was_ managing it. Seifer wasn't all talk, after all.

He was still smirking, too, even as he was hard pressed to keep one step ahead of the martial artist's punches, which made Quistis wonder if this wasn't the very thing he'd had in mind when he had come strolling up to them. He seemed to be completely content with the situation at present - indeed, was a little more cheerful than he ought to be. What he had to gain from pissing Zell off, Quistis couldn't fathom, unless it was just Seifer's way of letting the other work out his anger over whatever argument they'd been having; the same argument, perhaps, that had prompted Zell to deck Seifer once already. Maybe this was just their usual way of working out their resentment - Quistis couldn't imagine that a couple like them got on very well most of the time. She couldn't really see that they got on very well at all, but she supposed that they might act completely different in private... and _that_ was something she certainly didn't want to be thinking about.

Zell was moving a little more slowly now, his strikes less impetuous and more precise as his temper cooled, and this change in strategy allowed Seifer a few chances to get in some jabs of his own, though all were easily dodged. Neither of them had landed any solid hits yet, as far as Quistis could see, but it wasn't for lack of trying; Zell looked, in earnest, to be going for blood, and if Seifer wasn't giving his all it could only be by a tiny amount that he was holding back. His grin had not faded, and any way that Quistis looked at it, this fight seemed more like a lover's spat than anything else, particularly in the way Seifer was handling it; though he wasn't pulling his punches - assuming he wanted to walk away from the bout in one piece, that wasn't even an option - he clearly felt he was indulging Zell in letting him take out his anger in this manner, rather than let the instructor nurse his resentment for however long it took him to get over whatever offense Seifer had committed. Their fights, in fact, had always been something like this, though Quistis had never considered the idea of their being lover's spats before now, but the more she did consider it, the more valid the notion became in her mind. She couldn't even begin to guess how long Seifer and Zell had as intimate as they appeared to be now, but it was apparent that this sort of thing was routine for the two of them - prompting the idea that this relationship, whatever it was, had been going on a lot longer than she first would have supposed.

There was a sudden lull in the fight, and both men stepped back a few paces to catch their breath, Seifer smirking, Zell's glare brimming with animosity. Quistis seized on the opportunity to step briskly in between the two, turning her gaze sternly on each of them in turn before she chided, "That's quite enough, the both of you. Zell, you have a class to attend to. Seifer, if you want to train, please find something to do it on _besides_your fellow SeeDs." Dispensing severe scowls all around, including to the students of Zell's who had come to watch the brawl, she shooed the onlookers away, giving Zell a very serious look as his attention for anything besides the fight he'd been goaded into returned and he sheepishly met her eyes. He turned away, giving a petulant sigh.

"You gonna let Trepe stick up for you now, chicken-wuss?" Seifer inquired coldly, retrieving his gunblade from the dirt and hefting it over one shoulder, the cocky attitude he'd affected all through their fight now conspicuously gone, replaced by something Quistis would have suspected was melancholy if she hadn't been more focused on keeping the two of them from going at it again.

Zell didn't even bother to turn around to snarl his answer, "Fuck off, already, Almasy."

"Alright, whatever." Seifer shrugged, but he didn't look half as nonchalant as he appeared to be trying to seem. "We can finish this later, if that's what you want."

"Seifer, if you don't mind," Quistis prompted, nodding her head encouragingly toward the exit, which the gunblader bypassed completely as he turned and stormed off; he marched grumpily further into the depths of the training center, slashing at the undergrowth. She would have preferred he left the area altogether, but at least he hadn't put up a fight, she supposed. Zell, however, was giving her a very obstinate look, as though he knew exactly what she was about to say and he wanted to head her off before she could lecture him, which he hurried to do.

"Don't give me that look, Quistis," he warned irritably.

"What look?"

"That same look you give me every time me and Seifer get into a fight," he snarled. "He came in here_purposely_ to wind me up; you saw it!"

"Yes," She agreed, "But I also happened to notice that it didn't take him a lot of effort, did it?"

Zell stared at her, the expression of incredulity quickly overtaking his features suggesting that he couldn't believe she was actually excusing Seifer's behavior. He frowned deeply at her, sweeping blonde locks out of his eyes as he asked accusingly, "Are you _defending_ him?"

"I'm not defending anyone. I just find it odd that, after all this time, you would be so susceptible to his attacks."

"I'm not! I'm just-" he began, but cut himself off with an irritated huff, throwing his arms out as if to express his frustration with her. "He's coming around _constantly_ lately, just to rile me up. I'm getting sick of it, alright? I've been tryin' not to let it get to me."

Quistis somehow didn't think this was exactly the case, but she didn't attempt to go any further into the subject. Instead, she asked next, as calmly and evenly as she could manage, "Don't you think you're being a little hard on him?"

"Excuse me?" Zell stared, his expression twisted with pure disbelief. "You think I'm being _hard on Seifer_? When he's the one coming around every fuckin' day trying to start fights with me? Don't you think you've got it a little backwards?"

"You know what I mean, Zell," she answered softly, and his face darkened, but he maintained his confusion. So he wanted to play innocent, did he? Well, Quistis certainly wasn't one to force someone into confessing if they wanted to keep a secret, but she could get her point across nonetheless, and she fully intended to. When Zell didn't reply, she went on smoothly, "Perhaps it's not my place to say anything, but I think you ought to be careful. If you keep treating him like you are, you're going to drive him away."

"I'm _trying_ to drive him away! That's my problem! He won't go away!" Zell cried, punctuating his words with wild hand motions to fully demonstrate his complete and utter bemusement with the situation. He gave a short, testy sigh, and began to pace. "Quistis, what is this all about?" He demanded shortly.

"I don't know, you tell me?" she replied cryptically.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you!" Abruptly, he stopped pacing, facing Quistis sharply and staring her down quite seriously. The quick, gruff tone of his voice indicated that he was running out of patience with the conversation as he went on to ask, "Are we talking about Seifer, or are we talking about something else?"

Quistis thought for a moment before answering, unsure of which was the proper answer to give. Zell was no fool; he must have known exactly what she was really talking about, but she couldn't tell if his question was a trick or not - if he really wanted to keep pretending he didn't know what this was about. Cautiously, she replied, "We're talking about Seifer."

"I don't get why you're on his side."

"I'm not on anyone's _side_," she huffed, irritated.

"Then don't stick up for him!" Zell went on belligerently. "For fuck's sake, this guy has been making my life a hell for years, and all of a sudden you think he's the victim?"

"I didn't say that!" Quistis interrupted, starting to feel quite fed up with Zell's accusations. After a moment, she added, in a very clipped tone of voice, "I'm not trying to defend Seifer. He's an arse. I know that. I'm just_saying_..." She paused, fishing for words, before she knew how to go on. "...Think of his feelings toward this situation. Just because he's a great arrogant git doesn't mean he doesn't have them, you know."

She thought she saw Zell crack a smile for just a second, presumably at her description of Seifer as a great arrogant git, but he said next, quite seriously, "What the fuck do Seifer's feelings have to do with anything?"

"Well," Quistis began, somewhat taken aback; she hadn't expected Zell to be so frank, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be equally as frank and say outright what she was really getting at. Instead, she decided to raise a slight change of topic. "Do you consider you and Seifer to be..." She paused for just a moment, searching for an acceptable word to substitute for "lovers", which somehow she didn't think Zell would be very amenable to. "...friends?"

He looked incredulous at her even having asked such a thing, as though he thought the answer was so obvious it was ridiculous, and in response, bit sarcastically, "Yeah, we're the kind of friends who like to beat each other up and can't stand being around each other. What kind of question is that?"

"I'm being serious, here!" She insisted, giving a frustrated sigh. "I mean, did you ever think that maybe Seifer_does_ consider you to be... friends?"

Zell's expression, utterly blank, clearly said that he had never entertained any such thoughts, and that was all Quistis needed to deduce what was _really_ going on between the two of them. Seifer was obviously putting more into their relationship than Zell, and it was becoming an issue. Hell, he was _in love_ with Zell, that much was evident; that and the fact that Zell was by no means reciprocating the sentiment and, to go by the tension currently bubbling between the two of them, had not been receptive to the idea when Seifer proposed it. Now Seifer was trying to shrug the whole ordeal off by acting like an arse, and Zell was holding a grudge over what he had probably taken as a grievous indignity to his person.

Quistis allowed herself a quiet sigh. She didn't want to interfere, but, knowing what she already did, she had to at least make sure that whatever went on between Zell and Seifer behind closed doors didn't get carried into their professional lives, as well - and as it had already, she considered it her duty to warn at least one of them not to let it happen again. Not only would it be detrimental to their careers should any of this get out of hand and their relationship be discovered, but it also posed a danger to their work and the work environment of those around them if they were constantly bickering and trying to spite each other over personal matters. At least, all of that was what Quistis told herself to justify her meddling; truthfully, she was highly curious as to this unusual relationship of theirs, and she had a million questions for Zell, but to ask them, she would have to build up some trust first.

"I know you think it's crazy, but just think about it for a minute," She went on. "I mean, he doesn't have anyone he's close to, except maybe Fuujin and Raijin, but they're always away from Garden. So who is he going to hang around when he's lonely? It's always you he goes to."

"Only 'cause he sees me as an easy target," Zell offered.

"No, I don't think so," Quistis replied. "I mean, yes, you are an easy target," she added, giving a cheeky grin in response to Zell's exclamation of outrage at this remark, "You're very easy to rile up, you can't deny that, Zell. But I don't think that's why he bugs you. I think he takes your guys' fighting in a very playful manner. He enjoys it. That's obvious. I mean, I've never seen him act with anyone else the way he does with you, y'know?"

"Well," Zell started, but that was all he said; he seemed to be surprised at himself for not having considered all that before, and he frowned in thought. "No," he said eventually, shrugging. "I guess I never did think about it that way."

"I guess my point is," Quistis finished, flashing an encouraging smile at Zell, who appeared quite bewildered at himself now, "I'd be careful how far I push him, if I were you. He might be an arse, but he's still _human_."

Zell was giving her a look she couldn't quite read, looking himself as though he didn't know how to answer to such an observation. There was a silence between them for a few moments, and then Quistis, with only a minimal amount of awkwardness on her part, cleared her throat, and said, "Anyway, I'm sorry to have interrupted your class. You'd better get back to your students now. I'll see you around," She ended.

He nodded in return, a slight frown gracing his expression as he mulled over what she'd left him with. She offered a wave, and then turned to go, feeling fairly pleased with how the conversation had went as she headed out of the training center. Hopefully, Zell would rethink his attitude toward Seifer, or at least realize that their constant fighting wasn't going to do anyone, least of all themselves, any good. And, well, if her advice just happened to make Zell see the light and help to get his and Seifer's relationship back on steady ground, she wouldn't complain. It was, after all, only her duty to help out a friend in need.

Zell watched her go, his feeling of utter bewilderment ever increasing as he mentally rehashed their conversation, trying to figure out exactly where Quistis had lost him; it was somewhere, he decided, between defending Seifer and trying to paint him out as the victim. "What the fuck was she on about...?" He wondered quietly to himself, shaking his head, as he returned to his students.

"For fuck's sake, _what_?" Xu growled to herself as the phone on her bedroom wall began to ring again; all day long, it had been nonstop, and she was on the verge of ripping the damn thing right out of the wall if she thought it would stop people seeking her out for stupid, trivial matters - if it wasn't some instructor or other looking for next month's class schedule or this week's field exam dates, it was a student needing a referral for their next mission or some reference for their paper on the practicality of GF junctioning versus the risks or a pardon for missing their magic lab this week because they had been stranded in Dollet after the trains went down or some other ordeal she couldn't be bothered to give a shit about. Or, even worse, it was one of the disciplinary committee staff calling to report that Seifer had done something outrageous again; those were her least favorite calls of all, although they had become relatively infrequent lately... but with the day she was having, no amount of bad news would surprise her. Grumbling to herself, she got up from her desk and yanked the handset off the wall, answering it in the calmest, sweetest tone she could muster, "This is Xu."

"Xu? Hi, it's Quistis."

_Ah, fuck, what does she want?_ she thought to herself, but merely replied, "Hey, what's up?"

"Well," Quistis began a bit hesitantly, and Xu mentally groaned - no doubt the instructor was about to ask some massive favor of her, just like everyone else did. For what other reason did she exist than to do others favors? "Remember this weekend, you asked me to help you find a candidate for a mission next week?"

"Uh-huh," Xu said in her most noncommittal voice. There was a slight pause, as though Quistis was contemplating whether or not she ought to continue.

"Have you found anyone yet?"


	8. Chapter 8

"You've gotta be shitting me!"

"No," Squall said calmly, stoic in the face of the veritable tantrum Zell was now throwing in the middle of the hallway as a result of the news he'd just been given - news which, it appeared, was not to his liking. "I'm afraid I'm not, sorry."

"Squall," Zell said quickly, half-jogging down the corridor to keep up with the brunette's long strides. "Come on, this is a joke, right? Well, it's really not fucking funny."

Squall kept walking, clearly not wishing to deign to answer that. He seemed, in fact, quite inclined to ignore Zell completely, until the martial artist grabbed him by the arm and forced him to stop, his expression desperate as he went on, "You can't send me to Galbadia with Seifer."

"Why not?" Squall inquired, the tone of his voice implying amusement, though no trace of it could be found on his face.

"Why not?" Zell repeated, sputtering. "We... we'd kill each other! Having to work together for a month? You know we would!"

"I'd hope not. I'd like to believe the both of you have better sense than that." The gunblader was thoughtful for a moment, and then he added, "Consider it a test of your patience."

The blonde gritted his teeth, but didn't reply to that. It was less about patience than it was about restraint, he thought, but he couldn't tell Squall that. The truth was, he didn't know if he could handle spending four weeks - four long, _long_ weeks, they would undoubtedly be - in close quarters with Seifer, trying to be amiable, when he didn't know whether he more wanted to punch the ex-knight or pounce on him. And where the fuck had Squall gotten the idea that Seifer would be a good candidate for this mission, anyway? Hyne help whoever had whispered _that_ little bit of advice in the headmaster's ear if Zell ever found out who it was.

"Can I call personal favor on this?" He whined. "I mean, anyone else would be better!"

"There is no one else," Squall replied sternly. "Seifer's the best person for the job. He's the _only_ person for it, as much as I don't like it."

"Couldn't Irvine send someone from Galbadia Garden? Deling City's in their jurisdiction, anyway, isn't it?"

Squall turned, facing the other man for the first time in their conversation, and giving him a very probing look, as though he couldn't quite figure out why Zell was so desperate to avoid going on this mission with Seifer - and, detached as Squall was most of the time, if Zell had to keep pleading his case in this manner, the brunette was bound to get curious after a while, something Zell wanted to avoid at all costs. "General Caraway specifically came to us because he distrusts Galbadia Garden - a lot of people still do," he explained, with the quiet, patronizing air of someone lecturing a petulant child. "But even if that weren't the case, I would not go running to Irvine for help when I've got two perfectly capable SeeDs here to do the job."

"That's not what I meant," Zell sighed contritely.

"Besides," Squall went on, in a rare fit of talkativeness, "Seifer is actually very well qualified for this mission. He's the only SeeD we've got right now who can match you in hand-to-hand combat - he's the only one who even comes _close_, you've admitted that yourself," he said pointedly. "Plus, on the few missions that I have sent him on, he's proven himself to be an exemplary agent... He's thorough and efficient, not to mention very level-headed in the field, which is more than I can say for some others."

"Well if that's the case, why can't you just fucking send _him_ and leave me out of it?" Zell fairly growled, gritting his teeth - that last had been aimed at him, he knew it, and worse it had been a direct hit. It was pretty obvious that Squall, that _nobody_ trusted Seifer enough to ever send him on any important missions, but Zell also knew that Seifer, when he got serious, could be devastatingly good at what he did, and what riled the martial artist the most about that thought was the idea that he might be shown up by Seifer. Better to suck it up and try to work with the bastard for a month than let his pride take that kind of damage.

"I need the both of you there," Squall simply replied, and he continued to walk, Zell following after a brief moment.

"Listen," the blonde tried again, darting in front of the other man to stop him walking away from the conversation, as Squall was prone to doing. "You _know_ I would not ask something like this unless the situation was dire-"

"What situation?" Squall interrupted, looking exasperated now. Zell couldn't answer, and the brunette took advantage of the silence to add, "If you can give me one reason why you and Seifer can't work together, I'll find someone else. One _good_ reason," he specified.

"I... ah... fuck!" Zell cursed.

"You fuck?" Squall's lips twitched in what might have almost been a smile. "That _would_ be something."

"Goddammit, Squall, you're pissing me off!" Zell roared, and a tightly-knit group of underclassmen moved over to the other side of the corridor as they passed him. Even Squall was making cracks at his expense now? Of course, Zell knew the comment was a joke; the other man would never have said something like that if he thought there was even the slightest chance it could be true. Squall continued walking, looking supremely unaffected.

"You'll be leaving at six monday morning, then, as planned," he said in a very final sort of tone, walking back towards the dorms. Zell was left standing in the middle of the corridor, fuming to himself, as students milled past him on their way to class.

"Fuck!" He hissed under his breath, whirling around and stomping away. "Fuck, fuck, fuck me, fuck!"

What was going on lately? Was _everyone_ against him? He paced for a minute or two in the middle of the hallway before realizing where he wanted to go. No, he decided, it wasn't that everyone was against him; just a select few people who all had the resources, and evidently the desire, to make his life a living hell. And Seifer, the prodigious bastard, had to be behind this in some way or another. It was unlikely that the gunblader had gone up to Squall and suggested himself for this mission - it would be highly suspect, for one, for Seifer to volunteer to work with Zell - he tended to keep his operations a little more covert than that. When it came to his dealings with Zell, Seifer preferred subterfuge; spreading sneaky rumors and making suggestive comments that flew under most people's radar to undermine Zell's confidence and drive him into a state of constant suspicion. And what riled Zell up the most was that he was so damn _good_ at it. He didn't stand a chance against such underhandedness.

So who had been the one to suggest Seifer up for this mission? Someone who knew him, knew he could fight, and had probably at some point seen he and Zell sparring - Zell stopped right where he was. No, it couldn't be. No matter how good-intentioned she thought she was, there was no way Quistis would have set him up for a situation so inevitably doomed to disaster. But this affair reeked of her interference, and she had been so strange yesterday...

Zell had hardly given their conversation a second thought after she left him after his and Seifer's fight, but now he tried to think back over what she had said to him. She had seemed to be hinting at something, something she thought Zell would understand without it being said aloud. Something to do with him and Seifer. That must have been how she got the notion that Seifer wanted to be his friend; you'd certainly have a hard time deducing such a thing if you only went off the gunblader's behavior, that was for sure. She probably thought she was doing Zell some kind of favor by giving him some good old male bonding time with the arsehole. This was a catastrophe.

"Fuuuck me," Zell groaned to himself.

"Well now," Miri began somewhat hesitantly, with the air of someone who hadn't a clue what to say next - though Zell hadn't expected much more of a response after spilling the entirety of what had gone on between him and Seifer over the past couple weeks, excepting, of course, the disturbingly large and growing amount of dirty thoughts he found he was now having in regard to the gunblader, which he didn't particularly think Miri would want to hear about anyway. Besides, he wanted to judge her reaction to the idea of it before actually confessing that he was attracted to Seifer - he didn't much like it himself, but there was no use denying it any longer. It was a problem that needed to be addressed, and the sooner he accepted the fact that he was attracted to a man, the sooner he could go about rectifying it. He waited patiently for Miri to go on, but she didn't, pursing her lips tightly as though trying not to laugh.

"What the hell is so funny?" Zell asked sharply as she raised a hand to cover her mouth, giving a very unladylike snort as she fought back a giggle.

"Nothing's funny, I'm sorry. It's just," She paused to clear her throat, attempting to seem serious, though her lips twitched with restrained laughter. "That's some situation you've got yourself in, isn't it?"

"I didn't get myself in it! Be serious, would you! I really need help!" He replied in a loud, desperate whisper, leaning wearily against the bookshelf next to him and knocking a few automotive repair manuals askew with his shoulder. Miri reached over fussily to straighten them out, still biting back a smile.

"I'm sorry. It's not funny," She said quietly. "I don't know how you expect me to help you, though."

"I... I don't know," Zell sighed sharply, irritated. "I just... need some advice? How am I going to fix this?"

"Fix what?" The librarian was thoughtful for a moment, frowning in bemusement. "I mean, if you can't find someone else to work with, you'll just have to go with Seifer and suck it up, won't you? What else can you do?"

Zell hesitated before answering, biting his lip as he tried to figure out how to explain his predicament to Miri. It wasn't the working part that he was worried about; he knew that Seifer was capable of professionalism when on the job, and Zell could deal with the ex-knight in a professional atmosphere. It was the downtime he was afraid was going to be a problem - they weren't going to be at parties all the time, and when they were alone Seifer would be the same arrogant, sarcastic prick - a _sexy_ prick, but still - that he always was. Not only was he incredibly skilled at provoking Zell, but he took great pleasure in it, too, and if it wasn't a big problem in Garden, where they only ran into each other once a day (once if Zell was lucky,) it would almost certainly be a problem if they were stuck in a hotel room together for four weeks. And sure, Zell could go out during the day, but he couldn't stay out twenty-four seven; he was bound to see Seifer more than he really wanted to... and the gunblader was aggravatingly adept at riling Zell up, in more ways than one. He would never last a month in Seifer's continual presence.

"Miri," he said lowly, shrinking even further into the corner in which they were huddled between two tall bookshelves. "Promise you won't judge me if I tell you something crazy," he said.

She looked puzzled, but gave what was probably supposed to be an encouraging smile - would have worked better if she hadn't still been trying not to smirk, but it was a good effort anyway, Zell decided. "Of course, Zell, you know me. What is it?"

"Um..." He leaned in close to her, dropping his voice as low as he could to whisper, "I think, err... I think I'm attracted to Seifer."

"You _think_?" was her immediate reply.

"Well, I... I am attracted to him. For sure."

"You're attracted to him for sure," Miri repeated softly, nodding her head in understanding. Then she asked, "How did you figure that out?"

"That's not important," Zell replied as his cheeks flushed hot, recalling the number of dreams he'd been having ever since the day after Rinoa's party, making him wonder if, despite the fact that he couldn't remember anything and that there was no evidence to prove it, something had, in fact, happened between he and Seifer - something that his unconscious mind still recalled and brought back to the surface in his sleep. It was something he had been thinking about near constantly since the notion first entered his mind, though he had rather it was all his imagination - the anger he felt at Seifer aside, he found he was somewhat disappointed at the idea that something might have happened between them that he couldn't remember. He certainly wasn't going to admit that to Miri, however. "You don't seem too surprised," he noted.

"Well, he's attractive," the brunette said matter-of-factly, flashing a cheeky smile. She cleared her throat and went on in a more serious tone, "Anyway, I guess I already kind of had a feeling."

"You had a feeling?" Zell gave a quiet groan; was he really so obvious that she wasn't even the least bit shocked or repelled by the idea of his liking men? _No, not men_, he mentally corrected himself, _just Seifer. Being attracted to _one_man doesn't make me gay._

Miri gave a little shrug, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "Not like, a feeling... you're not being obvious, if that's what you're worrying about," she explained. "I just remember, you know, the last time we talked, you didn't seem exactly against the idea of actually sleeping with Seifer. It was other people knowing that seemed to bother you more."

Zell considered that lot briefly, and felt a little bit better. It was true - it wasn't the actual attraction that scared him, but the thought that someone might find out about it, Seifer primarily, but anyone. "You're right," he agreed, nodding his head and feeling marginally calmer. Of course it would be clear to Miri; the girl knew Zell almost as well as he knew himself, which is why so often he went to her for advice. That didn't mean anyone else had suspected anything.

"So what you're really worried about isn't working with Seifer, but being alone with him so much, is that right?" Miri went on contemplatively. Zell nodded his affirmative, and she thought again for a short minute. "Well, it's simple: don't play his game."

"Pardon?"

"You're afraid he's going to provoke you into doing something crazy," she stated. "So don't let him provoke you."

"You don't think I'd be doing that already if I could?!" Zell hissed, waving his arms wildly. "It's not as easy as you make it sound, alright?"

"Is he really that good at winding you up?"

"I only wish he weren't," the blonde replied bitterly, giving a frustrated sigh. Neither spoke for a few minutes more, until Miri hesitantly broke the silence with a careful question.

"What does Seifer stand to gain from doing this?" She asked slowly, a genuinely puzzled expression on her pretty face.

"The joy of making me suffer?" Zell offered.

"No, really," the brunette said quite seriously, frowning as she crossed her arms and seemed to really think about it. "I mean, to go so out of his way to bug you? What's the point?"

"Who the fuck knows what Seifer's thinking?" Zell said loudly in response, earning a chastising "sshhh!" from someone on the other side of the shelf, and he dropped his voice to add, "Does it really fuckin' matter? He's a total dick, he takes pleasure in causing pain to others, that's all there is to it!"

Miri bit the corner of her lip, her mouth twitching into a grin, but she said nothing. Zell shook his head. "No. There's no fuckin' way."

"Well..." she shrugged.

"You can't seriously think..." Zell began, but he trailed off. Miri didn't reply, only smirking and waiting for Zell to go on, and after a long moment, he cautiously ventured, "Quistis did think he wanted to be my friend..."

"That's one way of putting it, I guess."

"Oh, come on," he said exasperatedly. "You can't really think that Seifer's in love with me or something, can you? I mean, it's absurd..."

"I don't know about that," the librarian answered, leaning against the bookshelf casually. "_Love_ might be going a little too far, but there's obviously something that keeps him committed to your relationship if he puts so much effort into bullying you. What you've got to ask yourself is, what is Seifer getting from you that he doesn't get from any of his other relationships?"

"I dunno. The satisfaction of bullying someone weaker than himself?"

"I have a theory, and don't interrupt, just listen," she said, a clever little smile at play on her lips. She took a deep breath, pausing for a thoughtful moment before beginning, "What is Seifer getting out of your relationship that he doesn't get anywhere else? He enjoys the bullying, you said that yourself. It could very well be that he sees it as a sort of friendship - playful, you know. He clearly doesn't have that sort of relationship with anyone else. That's what he's getting out of it - fun."

Zell tried to absorb this, but it beat him. "Where do you come up with this stuff?" he asked skeptically.

"I'm a psychology major," Miri said dismissively, waving the comment aside. "Anyway, did you even give it any thought? For someone like Seifer, who gets only contempt and disdain from the whole world, as if he was some kind of monster, the way he acts with you is probably refreshingly _normal_. Bullying and fighting with you is the only thing he retains of his old life - how he was before the war."

"I don't know about all that," the martial artist said doubtfully, but Miri looked so proud of her conclusion that he couldn't bring himself to shoot her down. Psychology major or not, she didn't know what the hell she was talking about - Seifer was a jackass, plain and simple; he liked to bully. That had to be all there was to it. The brunette, however, was giving him a sunny smile and clearly waiting for him to praise her neat, clever little diagnosis, and to avoid having to do so Zell went on, "Anyway, that's all nice, but it doesn't really solve my problem..."

"Oh, that's easy," she scoffed. "I told you already, just ignore him. Seifer taunts you because your reactions amuse him. Stop reacting and eventually he'll stop trying."

"It's a lot easier saying than doing, though," Zell said dejectedly. "Besides, he's bound to think something's up if I stop fighting back."

"No, I don't know..." Miri struck a contemplative pose. "Seifer's very observant, but he's not long on imagination. You stop fighting back, his first reaction is going to be to think of some new way to get a rise out of you... No pun intended," she added with a barely-concealed smirk. "I don't think it would occur to him to wonder _why_ you're suddenly tuning him out, or to go the step further and try to discover the reason."

"Hmm," was all Zell said in response, mulling this over. It all sounded very plausible, but somehow he just couldn't see Seifer being so blind to what was going on around him - the gunblader was very shrewd and intuitive, there was no doubt about that. If Zell suddenly became passive, he would want to know the reason so that he could circumvent it. Just giving up because Zell wasn't providing the reactions that he wanted was patently not Seifer.

"I guess I'll give it a try," he said with a good deal less enthusiasm than he wished he could muster, and he gave a sigh. "Well, thanks for the advice, anyway."

"Anytime, sweetheart," Miri said chipperly, bending forward to place a kiss on his cheek, and she bounded away happily, her dark ponytail bobbing about her shoulders. She stopped at the end of the row and spun around to face him again, and added in a very stern sort of voice, "You know, it really would be nice to see you around here more often than just when you need advice. Keep me in the loop on this one, would you?"

"Sure," Zell said listlessly, forcing out a smile for her sake, and she trotted cheerfully away among the bookshelves, leaving him alone in the corner, where he remained for a few more minutes, thinking to himself on how utterly hopeless his case was turning out to be. He'd been banking on Miri having something good for him in the way of advice, none of this "don't play his game" crap. Like he couldn't have thought of that himself! If he _could_ just let Seifer's jibes go by, he would have started a long fucking time ago. It was more difficult than just ignoring the other SeeD - he had so much presence, so much charisma, it was impossible _to_ignore him, and when he got close to Zell, the instructor found himself so desperate to put some distance between the two of them that he often acted before thinking.

He wandered out of the library, quickening his stride as Carmina's head came poking out from around a nearby shelf calling after him, no doubt with inquiries regarding the mystery person she and the rest of the fucking world thought he was sleeping with. She'd been trying to catch his eye lately, which at least assured him that Miri had kept her word and not spilled a hint of what he'd been confiding to her. He almost felt bad for avoiding her, until he remembered that he had bigger things to worry about - namely, how in the world was he going to survive the next month?

Seifer could feel the familiar, piercing stare of a crimson eye on the back of his neck before he even turned around - which is why he wasn't the least bit surprised to find Fuujin in the doorway of his dorm room when he finally did, temporarily abandoning the two dress shirts he'd been trying to decide between in packing for his trip to invite his best friend in. "Where's your partner in crime?" He asked, remarking on Raijin's noticeable absence as Fuujin strolled into the room, and she gave a scowl - more of one than she usually wore, that is - at the inquiry.

"Getting the luggage," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, sitting on the edge of the bed next to a veritable mountain of clothing, that which Seifer had been sorting through the better part of the morning - not that he was usually too picky about what he wore, but he didn't have a lot of what could be called dressy attire, and he couldn't wear his SeeD uniform to every stupid party and dinner and conference he'd have to be attending, not least because it would be highly conspicuous. He held up the two shirts for Fuujin's opinion.

"Blue or gray?"

"Gray," she decided after a brief period of thought, and Seifer tossed the blue one aside.

"So where are you two off to now?" He asked.

"Nowhere. We're on base for a few weeks," Fuujin answered a bit more cheerily. "Which is kind of a shame, now you're finally getting out of this place for a while."

"Word travels fast, I see," Seifer remarked drolly.

"You seem to be in good spirits about it."

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked with a slight frown, pulling a few things out of his suitcase and rearranging them with the addition of the gray shirt. "I can't wait to finally get out of this prison to do some real SeeD work."

"Yes," Fuujin said pointedly, "with Dincht."

Seifer paused, looking up from his packing to meet his friend's inquisitive stare, and he gave her a winning smile. "Even so," he said coolly, giving an indifferent shrug, "doesn't change the fact that I'm doing_something_. And that sure beats the big fucking _nothing_ that I've been doing for the past three years."

Fuujin didn't answer, her frown deepening in suspicion. Seifer didn't bother to wonder how she'd found out about his mission, or that he was going to be on it with Zell - she had a way of knowing everything about his life that had long since ceased to bother him. Practiced in the art of nonchalance though he was, Seifer was still having a hard time pretending he wasn't excited about this mission; not only did he actually get to do some real work for once (well, as close to real work as being a bodyguard to some society princess could be, at least, but compared to some of the pissy little errands Squall had been sending him on lately, it was a dream) but he was going to be spending the whole of it all alone with Zell. Things couldn't have worked out better if he'd planned it himself. He didn't know who he had to thank for this wonderful opportunity, although something about the situation screamed Quistis - evidently his playing the wounded lover for her earlier that week had payed off well.

"What are you up to, Seifer?" Fuujin asked sharply.

"What makes you always think I'm up to something?"

She scoffed, as though the very idea that he might not be plotting was ridiculous in itself. "I've known you for a long time, and I know when you're up to no good. Does this have anything to do with whatever you were so gleeful about in Esthar, as well?"

"I gotta say, Fuu, I'm hurt by how little faith you have in me," Seifer hummed, tucking in a few stray corners, and yanking his hands out of the suitcase just in time as Fuujin reached over and slammed the top shut, seething.

"Don't bullshit me, now. I'm worried about you is all," she said, appearing sheepish, but Seifer could recognize one of her guilt trips a mile away. She added, somewhat more demandingly, "You're way too excited about this mission, and all I want to know is why. It has nothing to do with Dincht, I'm sure."

He grinned to himself, but didn't acknowledge the fact that she'd hit the nail on the head. He replied instead, "How did you find out about that, anyway? Isn't that kind of information supposed to be confidential?"

"There's only one train leaving for Deling City at six monday, and you're both on it?" She huffed. "It's pretty obvious you're not going there on your honeymoon!"

_How well she puts it,_ Seifer thought privately, only smiling in response to her claim. If only she knew how close she really was to the truth - but it was coming; he could see the gears turning in her head, and in less than a minute she seemed to have hit upon it. She stood abruptly from the bed, one red eye wide and her mouth slightly agape in shock, and she shook her head, more as though trying to deny it to herself than looking for confirmation that what she suspected was really true. "Seifer," she said breathily.

"What?" He said innocently.

"You can't be bloody serious."

"About what?" He flipped the top of the suitcase open again, and Fuujin stepped forward and smacked it shut. She punched him in the shoulder, and then pulled him down to her level by the lapels of his coat, her eye narrowed in anger.

"This is going too far, Seifer, even for you," She hissed.

"And just what, exactly, are you accusing me of?"

"You know exactly what," was the quiet, terse answer he recieved, Fuujin's voice low and deadly. "Even for bullying, this is a bit too much, isn't it?"

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Seifer said testily, prying her hands from his coat and rubbing his shoulder - damn, did she ever have a mean right hook. She gave a little shudder, and Seifer thought she was about to hit him again, but at that moment there was a commotion just outside the door and Raijin stumbled into the room, looking first, warily, at Fuujin, who was standing as if poised for battle, and he stopped just inside the doorway, cracking a dubious smile.

"Hey, Seif," he said.

"Welcome back," Seifer nodded in greeting.

"Erm, Fuu," Raijin went on, addressing his partner, "Well, I took your luggage over to your room, but I dropped the square one, I don't know what was in there, but it kind of rattled afterward-"

"RAGE!" Fuujin howled, shoving her way past her cowering accomplice and stomping away down the hall. Raijin watched her go from the doorway, and then turned to stare at Seifer, looking confused and curious.

"Shit, I ain't heard her bellow like that in months," he remarked, frowning. "You musta really pissed her off."

"Yes, I seem to be developing a talent for it," Seifer sighed, lifting the top on his suitcase as he returned to packing. Raijin shut the door in a very cautious manner, as though still afraid that Fuujin might burst through it at any moment and berate him.

"What the hell did you say to her?"

The gunblader only offered a shrug, gathering up clothes from his bed. Then, with an inquisitive look toward the other man, he said casually, "I see you're talking again."

"Oh-" Raijin looked baffled for a moment, then sheepish. "Yeah."

"Did she really Silence you?" Seifer asked with a half-smirk, nudging open the door of his closet with his foot and unceremoniously dumping the pile of clothes into an open drawer, not bothering with folding or hanging. He jammed a few stray sleeves and pants legs inside and shoved the drawer with his shoulder to close it before turning back around to face Raijin, who was loitering near the bed, his expression decidedly embarrassed.

"So I got drunk once and sorta made an inappropriate comment about President Loire. He thought it was pretty funny, but Fuu didn't," he explained abashedly, folding massive arms over his equally massive chest. "If ya ask me, she takes things too seriously, ya know?"

Seifer nodded, but this didn't seem to be all there was to the story - Raijin looked distinctly uncomfortable at the subject, shuffling his feet and fidgeting where he stood across the room, like a shame-faced little kid. A thought suddenly occurred to Seifer, and after a moment of thought, he ventured to inquire, "Oh, hell, Rai, you're not, like, in love with her or something, are you?" He laughed out loud, a grin splitting his face, as Raijin blushed, staring down at the floor. Seifer went on, in between snickers, "You've got to know that this can't end well for you."

"I know! It's just..." The other man groaned in frustration. "It's not like I planned for this to happen, ya know?"

"How in the hell _did_ it happen?" Seifer wondered next.

"I dunno," Raijin said with a sigh, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, which sank under his weight. "We had this party a few months ago, in Esthar, and she was all dressed up, and I just thought she looked really... pretty," he concluded awkwardly. "And I guess that's how it happened."

"I see," Seifer replied, hiding a smirk behind his hand, while Raijin stared very determinedly at his feet. Why he was surprised by this new information, Seifer didn't know - he ought to have seen it coming a mile away; falling in love with Fuu was proprietarily the sort of stupid thing Raijin would do if given the chance. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was a little surprised that it hadn't happened sooner; the duo had been working exclusively together for a few years now, and Raijin would have had plenty of opportunities to delude himself into thinking he was in love with his partner... and, well, maybe he was, who knew? It didn't seem likely - Rai was never long on brains, but he tended to be fanciful, a combination that more often than not led him to make stupid decisions - but Seifer had to suppose that anything could be possible. After all, look at his own behavior over the past few weeks - _not_ that he was comparing his situation with Zell to Rai's being in love with Fuu.

"What the hell am I gonna do?" Raijin broke into Seifer's thoughts with a whine, and the gunblader had to turn away to hide his grin.

"What are you asking me for?"

Raijin thought about this for a moment, and then nodded, replying dejectedly, "Yeah, you're right. This kinda thing's not really your expertise, ya know?"

Seifer's smile faded just a bit. "No, not really," he said dully.

"This love thing's a bitch, ain't it?" the other man grumbled. Seifer frowned, leaning coolly against the wall, still facing away from the bed, turning his head inward so that Raijin couldn't see his expression.

"You can say that again," He murmured. 


	9. Chapter 9

Daylight was only a faint purple glow on the horizon as Zell trudged up the stairs to the train station, a bookbag slung over one shoulder and his duffel thumping up the steps behind him. He had never been one to make a habit of sleeping late - and indeed, lately he hadn't been making a habit of sleeping much at all - but it was still too damn early to be up and about. Why they had to leave so bloody early in the morning was beyond him. The station was completely empty as he traipsed inside save for the sleepy-looking attendant near the doorway, to whom he handed his ticket, fighting back a yawn. He then plodded over to a nearby bench and slumped down in the seat, dropping his two bags on the floor beside him, and he let out a quiet groan.

It was nearly a half hour still until departure, so there was no need to board the train just yet, and Zell, entertaining a vague sort of hope that by doing so he could somehow deny what was about to take place, was quite happy to put off leaving for as long as he possibly could. He sagged in his seat, feeling weary - he had been up most of the night, and most of the past few nights, as well, tossing and turning with anxiety and unable to stop wondering just what the hell Seifer was really up to... as well as with other thoughts; but those were best not dwelt on in a public place. After a great deal of contemplating, he had decided that the best course of action would be to simply ask Seifer straight out the questions he wanted answered: what were the gunblader's intentions toward Zell, and what did he hope to gain by making people think that they were sleeping together? Surely nothing good could come of that; if he was out to trash Zell's reputation, he must have known that he'd be taking himself down as well. But maybe he just didn't care anymore what consequences came of his actions - or, yet, maybe his aim _was_ to get kicked out of Garden once and for all; that seemed like the sort of thing Seifer would do, instead of resigning peacefully, to go out with a bang and take as many others with him as he could. And since Zell was the only one of their old group that he could reasonably get at, and considering their less-than-peaceful history together, it was no surprise that Seifer would go after him. But if that was the case, if his intention was to go out in style, why do it in a method so disgraceful to his own reputation? Unless simply for the satisfaction of completely ruining Zell, which was something he certainly wouldn't put past Seifer.

He had given some thought to the conversation between Miri and himself a few days earlier, and the couple of points she'd made on the topic of Seifer's psychological state which, although he'd been too angry and flustered at the time to give any credibility to them, as he considered more and more, became increasingly plausible. Maybe it _was_ as simple as Seifer was lonely, nostalgic for the days when he was just Garden's resident jackass, rather than the evil world-conquering demonic ex-sorceress-knight that most of the world still imagined when they thought of him - although Zell had to wonder if four years hadn't been enough to dim people's memories on that subject. The people he encountered every day at Garden treated him like dirt, Zell suspected, because Seifer encouraged them to; he was anti-social and provocative, and he made no effort to act like he _wanted_ anyone's approval. Zell, for his part, was inclined to think that there were plenty of people who would be willing to get along with Seifer if only he would meet them halfway. He wasn't all bad, Seifer; he just like to appear that way. Zell could even believe there was some good in there somewhere, even if he had never personally witnessed anything to prove its existence.

_Did I just defend him to myself?_ he thought suddenly, heaving a dramatic sigh to complement the mood. Things were getting bad when he couldn't even keep his own opinions on the matter straight, and this wasn't the first time he'd caught himself defending his own thoughts. Hell, how was he supposed to get the truth out of Seifer when he couldn't even get the truth out of himself? He was no longer in denial; the fact that he was attracted to Seifer - however unnatural and irrational such an attraction must be - couldn't be ignored, although more often than not he couldn't decide whether he wanted more to kill the gunblader or kiss him. There were times when Seifer's company was tolerable - when he wasn't going out of his way to provoke Zell, he could be almost pleasant; and there was no denying that he had a sort of charisma, that he could be irresistibly charming when he had a mind to be. Seifer's antagonism Zell could deal with easily by simply being antagonistic right back, but when Seifer was being agreeable, it made it very difficult for Zell to retain his hostility, something which he was determined to do; because if he didn't have hostility toward Seifer, all that he would have is lust, and such a situation could only spell trouble.

No, that wasn't quite all of it, he had to admit to himself, albeit grudgingly. There were times when he almost enjoyed Seifer's company - times when he found himself thinking that if only the other man were so amiable all the time, Zell would rather like him. And one thing he was quite determined _not_ to do was like Seifer. That was a sure road to self-destruction.

_Not that it matters much at this point,_ Zell thought morosely to himself, _I was pretty much doomed from the moment I started thinking he was sexy._

The clock above the entrance to the station chimed a quarter to six, jarring Zell out of his thoughts for the moment. He stood up and stretched, feeling restless and wondering how he was ever going to stand the six-hour train ride ahead of him locked in a compartment with Seifer, let alone a whole month in Galbadia. And speak of the devil... there was the man himself, lurking on the steps just outside; he was leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette, facing the other way, and for a minute, Zell just watched him, his profile silhouetted by the muted, grayish glow of dawn. He really was extraordinarily handsome; and even in the way he carried himself, there was a sort of understated elegance - a dignity that even all the abuse he had taken over the past few years couldn't dull. He acted arrogant, Zell suspected, simply for the sake of pissing people off, but it wasn't as thought he didn't have plenty to be proud of - he was good-looking, clever, strong; he could be quite witty when the mood took him, although he wouldn't stand to be laughed at himself; and when he needed to be, he was devastatingly charming. Asocial behavior aside, Seifer was quite a catch - or would be for any girl, that is; Zell had to remind himself that he was not trying to catch anyone... he was just thinking, and there was no harm in that, right?

"The hell are you staring at, chicken-wuss?" Seifer growled as he shuffled inside, yanking irritably on his suitcase as a wheel caught on the lip of the stairs, and he thrust his boarding ticket at the attendant, who gave him a rather dirty look but said nothing in the face of this churlishness.

"Gee, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" Zell muttered in reply, but Seifer didn't seem to hear, snatching the ticket stub back with a great deal of acrimony and stuffing it into the pocket of his trenchcoat, dragging himself over to the bench and slumping down on it. He looked tired, as though he too had got too little sleep, which made Zell feel a bit better himself. His hair was tousled, his appearance not as well-kept as he usually prided himself on being, and he looked quite sleepy - rather cute, Zell decided, though he took great pains not to show it on his face. Seifer's eyes were shut and he looked to be dozing, but Zell wasn't going to take any chances pissing him off so early in their trip.

"What a fuckin' shitty hour to have to be up," Seifer complained quietly, tilting his head back and rubbing tired eyes. Zell snickered, sitting down next to him.

"You're telling me."

"How long is this fucking train ride going to be?"

"'Bout six hours, I'm told," Zell answered offhandedly. Seifer was quiet for a minute, and Zell stood again and began to pace when the silence started to make him sleepy.

"D'you mind cutting that out?" Seifer said sharply, cracking one eye just slightly to glare at the restless blonde.

"Well," Zell pretended to think for a moment, continuing to pace. "Yes, I do mind it, actually."

Both eyes opened, and Seifer stared for a few moments at the other man, as though trying to decide whether he thought Zell was actually being serious. "I apologize, Dincht, if that sounded like a request," he said calmly, though there was an edge to his voice. "Because what I meant to say was, stop pacing and sit the fuck down before I have to hurt you."

"I would love to see you try it," Zell murmured mutinously, striding back and forth quickly in front of the bench, and although he hadn't intended Seifer to hear that particular comment, the very pointed look he was getting from the gunblader made it clear he had heard well enough. If Seifer wanted a fight, Zell would certainly not hold back in giving him one; but the lack of real venom in Seifer's threat made Zell think that he wasn't truly looking for it, but that he was just being surly, which was a bit cute. Clearly Seifer was not a morning person. Zell made a mental note to remember that particular bit of information. Ignoring Seifer's request, however, he went on pacing, his drowsiness having morphed into a restive anxiety with the ex-knight's presence - honestly, a bit of action wouldn't have gone unappreciated just at the moment, if only to work out some of the tension he couldn't help feeling at such a close proximity to the other man. "Probably we ought to get on the train," he noted with a shrug, watching disinterestedly as a few more people trickled into the station and boarded; it was just ten to six. In response to this suggestion, Seifer merely sighed, sinking down a little further in his seat.

"You do whatever you want. I'm sitting here a few more minutes," he grumbled, looking distinctly unhappy. Zell shrugged again.

"Whatever, just don't miss the train," he said, gathering up his luggage.

"I won't miss the bloody train."

"What is wrong with you this morning?" Zell said with a half-chuckle, quickly fighting back the smirk that threatened to emerge at Seifer's markedly disgruntled expression.

"It's the bloody crack of dawn, that's what," the other man snapped, and then he seemed to compose himself. "And if you must know, I dislike trains."

"You what?" Zell snickered, and even the sharp glare he received for showing such open amusement at Seifer's confession could not quell the laughter that bubbled up; Seifer was just full of surprises this morning, wasn't he? The other man gave a heavy sigh, clearly regretting having said anything, and he got to his feet.

"You'll be laughing out the other side of your face if you don't knock it off," he threatened quietly, grabbing his suitcase and stalking away. Zell watched him as he boarded the train, smirking just a little - he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about seeing Seifer so bad-tempered early in the morning that made him feel a bit better about himself. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing he wasn't the only one who was displeased with this situation. Despite whatever Seifer was up to, he couldn't be happy about having to spend four weeks in Galbadia with Zell either.

He slung his bags over his shoulder and started toward the train, sighing as he resigned himself to the fate he knew lay before him - four long weeks of bad-tempered mornings, snarky comments, and of course the occasional fist fight or two, sexual tension bubbling just underneath the surface all the while. Lovely. He barely got two steps, however, before the sound of someone calling his name made him turn round again; Quistis was running up the steps to the station, looking wildly around, and when she spotted him, she beelined across the floor.

"Oh, good, you're here," She panted, clearly out of breath; she paused for a moment to catch it, tucking flyaway strands of golden hair out of her face.

"Quistis," he said with a slight awkward pause, unsure of what to say. "Er... I've never seen you with your hair down, it looks lovely," he offered clumsily.

"Don't lie, we both know it looks like shite," she replied huffily, sweeping the long, messy locks back over her shoulder and attempting to compose herself, standing up straight and smoothing the wrinkles from her shirt. She looked remarkably unkempt; her hair was not only loose but disheveled, her eyes were puffy and sleepy, and her outfit, a simple long-sleeved tee and jeans, was something more of slapdash than the precision look she normally exuded. _Must be something in the air this morning,_ Zell thought blithely to himself, deciding not to comment on his colleague's remark. Somewhat more coolly, she added, "I was afraid I was going to miss you. Whose clever idea was it to send you off so early?"

"I was wondering that myself," Zell replied with a small chuckle; her tone had been distinctly piqued. "What's the urgency, then?"

Quistis gave a quiet, exasperated sigh. "I need to talk to you about something. It's rather important... Do you have time?"

"Yeah, a few minutes," he said with a glance up at the clock; it was nearing six, but the trains from Balamb always ran a bit late, late enough, at least, to hear her out. That is, if she would get to the point - Quistis' speeches could get maddeningly long-winded if she was in a mind to let them, and she certainly didn't seem eager to get to it, looking around them nervously as though she were afraid of being overheard and hesitating a number of times before speaking at all.

"It's about Seifer," she said finally.

"Please tell me you've found someone else to send with me," Zell cried, his heart leaping for a moment as he hoped. "Or better yet, you're coming yourself!" But Quistis, with a rather bemused expression, shook her head to the negative, giving a lengthy pause before going on.

"I know it's really none of my business," she started out quickly, "But I just wanted to make sure you two are going to be... okay working together." Another pause, and when Zell didn't immediately answer, she added with emphasis, "You know?"

"We've never been okay working together, why should that change now?" Zell answered with a shrug, after spending a thoughtful few moments trying to figure out what she was on about this time. Quistis frowned deeply, pursing her lips as she contemplated this reply.

"Listen..." She started quietly, giving him a very conspiratorial look. "I know about the two of you, alright? I figured it out. I know."

Zell blinked, a chill running down his spine. Whatever was coming, it smelled like bad news. "Sorry, you know what about us?"

"Don't play dumb, Zell! I know all about it!" she snapped, startling Zell as well as herself, it seemed. She cleared her throat, and continued rather more evenly, "I know that the two of you are in love. So let's just get to the point."

So that was it. Zell gritted his teeth and forced a smile, trying not to think about just what he was going to do to Seifer as soon as he got a hold of the scheming bastard. As calmly as he could manage, he said, "We're in love?"

Quistis visibly started, and then seemed to be mentally backtracking, stammering, "I mean, that is, you're in a relationship. I know it," she added, with the very firm voice of someone trying to convince themselves of something ridiculous. Zell took a deep breath to steady himself before he could reply to this outrageous accusation.

"You don't know any such thing," he said softly.

She blanched, looking uneasy - Zell hoped she couldn't tell just how angry he really was. "I figured it out on my own, so don't be angry with Seifer," she said hesitantly.

"Oh, I'm angry with him, but not for the reason you think."

"It's not just that your fighting reflects badly on Garden," Quistis continued, "But it's dangerous, you know that - you can't fight a common enemy if you're always busy fighting each other," she said matter-of-factly in her most pompous lecturing tone. Then she was pensive for a moment; Zell amused himself during the silence by trying to guess what subject she would touch upon next. "It's not just that, I mean. Personally, that is... I'd really like to see you two work this out. I'm saying this as a friend," she went on, as if trying to placate him, "Not as an instructor or as a SeeD. I know it must be hard, living in a place like Garden, but I promise that not a word of this will go past me. I only want to help," she finally finished in a desperate sort of tone. Zell could only stare, silent.

She was too much, really. What kind of crap had Seifer been feeding her? "Quistis," He began, but he didn't even know how to go on.

"I just want you to be happy is all," she said quickly, biting her lip in embarrassment as she looked him square in the eye.

"Quistis," he said again with a sigh. "If you've got a point, you'd better get to it before my train leaves without me."

She colored a bit, and her expression hardened. "Alright, then. Seifer is in love with you. What are you going to do about it?"

"What am I...?"

"What are you going to do about it," she repeated, her tone steely, her face determined. It was less a question than a declaration, as if to say, "yes, I know all about you two; so what?" She cleared her throat delicately, and then went on, "If you're in love with him, then you need to say so before you drive him off completely, and if you're not, then... well, it's not my place to tell you what to do, but you can't keep going on as you are. Someone's going to get hurt, if it hasn't happened already."

She stopped there, giving Zell a cautious glance to see how he would react to this accusation, and Zell was finding himself hard put to keep from laughing at the sheer absurdity of the idea. Quistis must have been truly starved for romance lately to have come up with something like this - to imagine that he and Seifer could be in love! Or worse, that Seifer was suffering from an unrequited love - the very thought was laughable. He was less angry now with Seifer, after hearing Quistis' story - it was clear she had let her imagination run rampant; Seifer, even at his most sinister, would never have been able to concoct a story like that with any plausible amount of seriousness. But Zell knew that, though she rarely let it loose, Quistis had a fanciful side to her that was almost mindboggling in its wildness; all Seifer would have had to do is plant the seed in her mind and the rest would come naturally.

"Zell," She said hesitantly, awaiting his reply.

"Did Seifer tell you all this?" He asked skeptically, smirking a little at her surprise at the question. She shook her head vigorously.

"No, I figured it all out on my own. He's probably not even aware that I know."

"We're not in a relationship, Quistis," Zell said, giving a significant pause to let her absorb it. She looked even more surprised at this remark.

"You mean you already..." She began gently, looking away from Zell. He sighed in frustration. Was she being deliberately thick?

"No, Quistis, there is no relationship, there never was, there never will be," He said firmly, feeling exasperated. "Seifer is not in love with me, and we are not together. He was just taking the piss out because he likes to mess with people's heads. D'you get it?"

She was very quiet for a moment, her eyes cast down as she mulled this bit of information over, and Zell waited, until they were both startled out of their respective reveries by the chiming of the clock to announce six. Zell looked around in a slight panic, but there were still a few people waiting in line to board the train, and even now a couple of late risers rushing into the station afraid to be left behind; he had time yet to get things settled with Quistis - and if he didn't do it now, who knew what kinds of crazy things she might come up with during his absence?

"He was _very_ convincing," She said, but a hint of doubt had crept into her tone.

"Yeah, he's quite an actor," Zell replied wryly.

"Are you very sure he's not in love with you?" Quistis prompted, her brow furrowed as she contemplated the issue, less abashed now and more pensive. Zell rolled his eyes, trying to convey what he hoped looked like incredulity.

"I think I would know if Seifer was in love with me!"

She didn't speak again for a moment or two, and paused tentatively before replying, "Would you?" She seemed to be about to add something, but merely shrugged, and noted, "You just said yourself, he's quite an actor."

"Seifer is not in love with me," Zell said adamantly, his good humor suddenly gone - for a nagging little voice was whispering in the back of his mind, _but would you know?_ He shook it away, and went on decisively, "He's intent on pissing me off, I don't know why, I don't know what I did to him. That's all this is about." He looked around, and hefted his bag over his shoulder, adding, "Look, I've got to catch my train, alright? But I'll see you when I get back..."

"Those two nights," Quistis interrupted sharply, a determined glint in her blue eyes. "The night of the graduation banquet, and the night of Rinoa's party. He spent the night in your room," she said, the statement half a question in itself. Zell faltered, lost for an answer. "Am I right?"

"That wasn't..." He began. "He was drunk, and I let him sleep it off in my room. That's all that was. When he found me drunk, he just returned the favor is all."

"Then why lie about it?"

"Erm..." Zell grumbled, irritated; he hardly had time to stand around explaining every little thing to her right now, but she clearly wasn't going to let it go until she got all the answers she wanted. Rather hurriedly, he said, "Listen, Seifer was afraid he was going to get kicked out if he got in any more trouble, so I covered for him. I felt sorry for him. He thinks you and Squall are out to get him or something."

"Out to-?" She started huffily, clearly quite offended by the idea that Seifer would think so low of her, but her outrage was interrupted by a loud, sharp whistling; Zell looked round and the station was empty, the train boarded. Hoisting his bags up on his shoulder, he began to move toward the platform, walking backwards to face her as he waved.

"Sorry, Quistis, no time!" He called cheerily, in fact rather glad to have been given an excuse to cut off their conversation where it did; he had no idea how to answer some of the questions he knew she would eventually get around to asking. "Let's talk about this when I get back, okay?"

"Zell!" She frowned deeply, trotting after him. "Now wait just a...! Are you certain-?" she started to ask, pausing as Zell turned to face her again, stopping in front of the train. Hesitating a moment, she looked him in the eye and finished but seriously, "Are you absolutely certain he's not in love with you?"

"Absolutely," He replied without missing a beat, flashing her a confident grin as he stepped up onto the train and the door slid shut behind him. She was watching him through the window, though, even as the train rolled away, not looking very convinced despite his self-assurance. Not until the station was shrinking in the distance out the window did Zell allow his smile to drop away. Why couldn't she just believe him? Unless she knew something; something she wasn't telling him. But what could she possibly know?

Well, there was one person Zell could think of that might have an idea; and lucky for him, he had a whole month to spend wheedling out the information he needed.

Seifer glanced up from the newspaper he was reading as Zell entered the compartment, flinging himself wearily onto the cushy seat opposite the other man - there was something to be said about SeeD benefits, at least. Seifer was frowning, and asked, "Where the hell have you been?"

"What do you care?" Zell snapped back. Seifer looked startled for a moment, as if he didn't even know why he had asked the question himself, and then shrugged, going back to his paper.

"You're right; I don't."

Zell laid back, settling into the cushions for a good long think, while Seifer mercifully continued to ignore him. It wouldn't last long; as soon as Seifer was properly awake, Zell had no doubt he'd be back to his usual tactics, but he was grateful for the respite, however brief it might turn out to be. He needed the time to come up with a strategy. Confronting Seifer straight out was still the plan, of course, but where exactly to start? And how, if it was humanly possible, to get the upper hand? Maybe it would be better to launch a surprise attack now; catch Seifer off guard while he was still sleepy and unassuming, a phrase Zell would never have thought one could apply to the gunblader if not for the fact that he was clearly not a morning person, had admitted as much himself, and if it was a small advantage, Zell had to take what he could get.

He thought in circles for a while and fell into a doze; only when he jerked awake sometime later, startling himself out of the hazy half-dream he'd been having did he even realize he had fallen asleep. Sitting up quickly, he rubbed his face, trying to wake up, and looked around the compartment. Seifer was snickering behind his newspaper, but Zell didn't engage him just yet. His mind wasn't clear, still caught in the vague, confused dream he'd been having; something about sugar or milk in his tea. He stood and stretched, and then moved to the window, looking out at an endless stretch of greenery; if he had to guess, he'd say they were somewhere between Timber and Deling City, but that he would have slept that long was disconcerting, especially since the train must have pit stopped at Timber. Had he really been so tired lately?

"Have we passed through Timber already?" he turned to ask Seifer.

"'Bout a half hour ago."

"What," Zell huffed under his breath, blinking a few times as he shook his head, trying to assemble his thoughts into some kind of coherent order. How was he supposed to verbally attack and outwit Seifer when his head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton balls? "I was sleeping?"

"If you weren't sleeping, you might need to get that breathing problem checked out," Seifer said, a smirk evident in his tone, though he didn't look up from his paper; but the comment, though snarky, didn't have that distinct bite to it that told Zell he was looking for a fight. Indeed, he seemed to want nothing more than to ignore the fact that Zell was even in the compartment with him, which, for no particular reason, irritated Zell a bit.

"How much longer to Deling City, then?" he asked next, returning to his seat.

Seifer gave an exasperated sort of sigh, sipping from a styrofoam cup and very pointedly not looking up at Zell. "Maybe three hours, I'd guess?" he murmured, twirling a pen in his fingers and then holding the newspaper against his knee to scribble something down. Zell frowned.

"What's that? Coffee?" he asked. "Where'd you get that?"

"The drinks cart came round a while ago."

"And you didn't bother to wake me?" Zell mumbled grouchily.

"Do I look like your fucking nanny?" Seifer barked suddenly, scowling up at Zell over the top of his paper. "Go down the front of the train and get something yourself if you're that desperate, or else sit down, shut up, and let me do my fucking crossword in peace. For fuck's sake," he said quietly to himself, almost as an afterthought. Zell, a bit startled by this sudden sharp command, did just that, and for the next few minutes merely sat hating himself a small bit for having so thoughtlessly yielded to Seifer's surliness. He stared blankly out the window for a short while, watching the landscape rush by until it melted into a green blur.

"Are you in love with me, Seifer?" Zell asked next.

Seifer, who had been in the middle of writing something down, the paper balanced against his thigh, paused, giving a slight baffled frown, as though he wasn't quite sure he had heard correctly. He seemed to be thinking about it for just a moment, and then he went back to his puzzle without even sparing Zell a glance. Zell waited for a minute or two, tapping his foot impatiently and trying to decide whether Seifer hadn't heard him or was just trying to pretend he hadn't.

"Oi, did you hear me?" he said.

"I heard you, I was just trying to ignore you," was Seifer's answer as he chewed contemplatively on the end of his pen, peering over the newspaper with a reflective sort of satisfaction.

"Don't be an arse, just answer the question!" Zell growled lowly, but with less real venom than just plain irritation; a surprise attack had been his last desperate reach to try and catch Seifer off-guard, but Seifer was clearly not going to be had. The gunblader seemed to be ignoring him again, and Zell found himself growing annoyed. "Damnit, Almasy, don't ignore me!"

"But it's been working out so well for me up 'til now."

"Can't you just answer a fucking question?"

"The question is ridiculous, and to be honest I'm a little offended by your asking it," Seifer replied quite calmly, and then he frowned, and added with just a hint of amusement in his tone, "Where would you ever get the idea that I was in love with you?"

Zell shrugged, feeling suddenly very warm and somewhat antsy; he hopped out of his seat and began to pace agitatedly. "Quistis seemed to think that you were," he answered. Seifer gave a muted sort of sigh, as if he had figured as much.

"Then she's off her rocker."

"Maybe," Zell said sheepishly, "but you ain't exactly doing a bang-up job of disproving her, are you?" He waited a moment, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, but Seifer's only response to that statement was a derisive laugh. A thought occurred to Zell, and he went on casually, "seems to me like you're avoiding the question, in fact."

Throwing his paper down onto the seat next to him, Seifer finally looked up at Zell, his expression a cross between amusement and vexation. _Finally, something gets to him,_ Zell thought to himself with a touch of triumph. "Have you completely lost the plot, Dincht?" the gunblader said in a low snarl, and Zell resisted the urge to smile.

"It's a simple yes or no question," he said innocently.

"It's an absurd question," Seifer said in a very final sort of tone, but Zell only smiled.

"Alright, then," he said coolly, shrugging as though it didn't matter. "I mean, that sounds like denial to me, but whatever."

Seifer laughed quietly, taking up his crossword again with a maddening smirk. "If anyone in this compartment is in denial, Dincht, I'm sure it's not me," he said in a soft but deadly tone, and Zell stopped dead where he was pacing. Seifer was looking down at the paper and seemed entirely inclined to go back to ignoring Zell, as if he expected the martial artist to be satisfied with this reply. If he wasn't acting surly, he was contemptuous; Zell couldn't decide which he disliked more.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Zell said menacingly. Seifer's only response to this was another derisive chuckle, and Zell found himself growing increasingly aggravated, although he knew it was probably Seifer's aim to rile him up, and he was likely playing right into the gunblader's hand as he went on angrily, "I fucking swear, Almasy, if you don't let on, I'm gonna slug you-"

"Is that supposed to be some kind of a euphemism?" Seifer said coolly. Zell strode quickly across the small train compartment and stood directly in front of him, swatting the paper out of Seifer's hand and onto the floor, snarling.

"Are you trying to start a fight?"

"Looks to me like you're the one doing that," Seifer replied, rising from his seat and pushing Zell away in one smooth, imperious movement; but Zell caught him by the front of his coat and yanked him in close, gnashing his teeth as a smirk broke out on Seifer's face - as if he knew exactly what Zell was going to do and had been waiting for it.

"You think you're real fucking funny, don't you?"

"If you wanted to get close to me, Zell," Seifer breathed, leaning in further and flashing his teeth in a grin that could only be called seductive that made Zell's heart skip a beat, "all you had to do was say-" He stopped short, nipping smartly to the side as Zell threw a punch that just barely went dodged, his knuckles skimming the gunblader's cheekbone; he shifted his weight to turn the punch into a backhand, but Seifer caught him by the wrist and, using his own momentum against him, flipped Zell sideways, sending him careening into the side of the compartment.

He managed to push off the wall and regain his balance in time to spin around before Seifer reached him again, but he realized too late that he was in a corner; and the other SeeD was advancing, smiling as though he hadn't a care in the world. His stance was deceptively casual, but Zell could see the hard line of tension running through his shoulders and arms - he was ready for action, if it came to that. And Zell was quite hoping that it did - at that moment, he would have loved nothing more in the world than to knock that smug grin off Seifer's face. "This is getting a little old, Dincht," Seifer drawled in a bored tone of voice, still smiling as he stepped closer.

"Yeah, I'll say," Zell replied, darting forward with a quick jab to Seifer's right side, but the other man was ready for him; he snatched the martial artist's hand from the air before he could withdraw, stepping forward to back him into the corner.

"Your pretending, I mean," Seifer elaborated in a tone quiet but dangerous. Zell felt his stomach flip at the sudden horrifying realization that Seifer could see right through him, as he always did; _and he's quite right, too,_ Zell thought sullenly to himself, _I am totally in denial._ There was no prevaricating around Seifer; he liked to play around and needle Zell up for amusement, but it was also clear that he knew, and had possibly known all along, what Zell was trying to hide with his gruffness and the constant quarreling, and he had probably just been playing along for fun. Knowing this only made Zell angrier, both at Seifer and at himself for having been duped into believing he could fool anybody with his behavior, but he didn't yet make a move to escape Seifer's clutches - not because he thought he couldn't; even on a bad day he knew he was more than a match for Seifer in terms of skill - but because he had a feeling that the situation would only get worse before it got better if he tried to stop Seifer having his say, which the other man clearly intended to do. Besides, it wasn't all bad being so close to Seifer - he was, after all, a very good-looking man.

_A very good-looking man who's probably right now thinking up ten different ways to murder me and tip the body out the train window,_ Zell thought bleakly, and he gave a little struggle, only to be pinned harder against the wall. Something was seriously wrong with him when Seifer was likely about to kill him, and all he could think about was how sexy the line of his collarbone was peeking over the edge of his shirt as he leaned forward. _You're one sick, messed-up kid, Zell Dincht,_ he thought to himself.

"D'you wanna let me go now?" he growled.

Seifer's smirk grew, if possible, even more smug. "No, in fact... I don't," he answered, and then he gave a quiet laugh. "Besides, we both know that you could fight me off if you wanted."

Zell hesitated for a moment, gritting his teeth as Seifer's grip tightened around his wrist, the gunblader's other hand pressing his shoulder against the wall. "For fuck's sake, Almasy, you've had your fun-"

"Oh, I haven't even started," Seifer cut in, on his face an expression of nothing less that pure glee. Zell shot him the nastiest glare he could muster, but in response Seifer merely said, "not so angry anymore, are you?"

"If I didn't think you'd got something planned, I'd knock your teeth into your brain," Zell hissed.

"Plan? Me? What do you take me for?" Seifer fairly purred, and he was so close now that Zell could smell the dry, musky scent of his skin. "I don't understand, Dincht, you weren't nearly this reluctant last time..."

Zell shivered as a sharp claw of foreboding ran icily down his spine. This was it, whatever Seifer was after, it was coming - but he didn't say anything for a moment; it was clear Seifer expected him to ask what that "last time" meant, but Zell wasn't going to play along quite that easily. Instead, he said, as coolly as he could manage, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, you were very drunk," Seifer replied offhandedly.

"You're lying," Zell spat without thinking, realizing belatedly that it was probably the worst answer he could have given as Seifer laughed lowly.

"I think you must be confused again, Dincht," he said softly. "You see, the one who's not telling the truth here is you." He paused, evidently waiting for Zell to speak, but he couldn't think of anything to say, and the silence stretched out agonizingly until Seifer spoke again, leaning in close over Zell's shoulder. "I find it interesting that you're not trying to fight me off," he murmured into Zell's ear.

"You're such a prick," Zell snarled, and he yanked his hand out of Seifer's grasp to push the other man away; but before he had gotten more than a step or two away, the gunblader pulled him back, slamming his back against the wall and pinning him there with an arm over his chest, Seifer's free hand on the back of his head, which Zell understood only too late was there to keep him from pulling away as Seifer moved in and covered Zell's lips with his own. The kiss was so wholly unexpected that for a long moment, Zell simply froze, the fact that Seifer had kissed him - was _still_ kissing him, and rather vigorously at that - eclipsed by the more pressing and much more baffling realization that it was _good_... no, it was more than that; it was _amazing_, so much better than he knew kissing someone he never ought to have been kissing should feel. But of course Seifer would be a magnificent kisser; and somehow Zell felt as if he'd known that all along.

His knees felt weak, and it was a minute or two before he realized that he'd stopped struggling, and that there was a tangible shift in dominance between Seifer and himself when he did - and that's when Zell understood that the kiss was less a kiss than it was merely an extension of the skirmish they'd been having; it was a way for Seifer to catch him off-guard and, knowing that Zell was attracted to him, to use the younger man's weakness against him. And boy, was he good at it. He reached up and twisted his fingers in Seifer's hair, yanking hard enough to make Seifer draw back in surprise.

"The fuck're you doing?!" Zell barked, but Seifer only grinned.

"Shut up," he ordered, and pulled Zell in again. Slightly more prepared this time, Zell tried to fight back, but with his other arm pinned to the wall, there was little he could do outside of trying to jerk Seifer's face away, which wasn't very effective as long as Seifer still had a grip on the back of his neck and was holding them together. And truthfully, Zell didn't entirely want to fight it off; the feeling of kissing Seifer was incredible, like nothing he'd ever known, and he had to remind himself that this was a fight, a battle for dominance, just to keep from losing himself in it. If he did, no doubt Seifer would find a million ways to lord it over him for the rest of what would most certainly be a miserable life. He curled his fingers tighter in Seifer's hair, tugging cruelly to fight back against Seifer in the only meager way he could think to as coherent thought seemed to slip further and further from his grasp.

"Really, Dincht," Seifer huffed as he pulled away, slipping his tongue from between Zell's lips - and Zell was immensely relieved that he had just then; he was feeling distinctly week-kneed and he had a feeling that a few moments more and he might do something he would most certainly live to regret. "Hair-pulling? I mean, what the hell?"

Zell was trying to catch his breath in order to reply, when before he could speak the compartment door suddenly slid open, and they both spun round in surprise to see a very small, very old lady shuffling backward through the doorway with a large, cumbersome looking cart. She managed to pull it inside, and then spent a few moments wheeling it back and forth to get it facing the right way before she looked up and announced in a wavery voice, "drinks cart, can I get you anything, da...?"

She trailed off, staring at the two of them; Zell had to wonder if their position looked as suggestive as he thought it did - Seifer still pinning him against the wall, their bodies pressed together, his hand still tangled in Zell's hair and Zell's in his. Zell had not yet quite caught his breath, and he had a feeling his face must be flushed; he certainly felt hot enough. Seifer's cheeks were only tinged with pink, but his lips were abused a deep, alluring red, glistening wet as he smirked still, and Zell had a brief moment of insanity as the desire to taste them again almost made him forget where he was. He wanted desperately to get away from Seifer, as far away as he could get, but he couldn't quite seem to move yet, and the other man wasn't budging either.

"Pardon me," the old lady said in a weak voice, giving a slight sort of bow as she backed her cart out of the compartment. "I'll just come back later," she said, smiling nervously as she shut the door again.

Seifer snorted in laughter suddenly; and Zell, as if breaking out of a trance, leaped away from him, his pulse racing as he thought back on what had just happened. After a moment of contemplation, he concluded that no, he had not gone mad; he had really just spent a few minutes - a few glorious minutes - making out with Seifer. A few amazing, heated, abso-fucking-lutely insane minutes, and if he had the chance to do it again, he would in a heartbeat. _Shit, I've gone off the deep end this time,_ he thought to himself.

Seifer was staring at him, grinning like the cat that got the cream, straightening his rumpled collar and brushing his hair back from his eyes. "What?" he said innocently.

"Arsehole!" Zell growled, striding forward and mercilessly driving his knee into Seifer's stomach; the gunblader crumpled, clutching his gut, as Zell stormed away.

"Now was that really necessary?" he asked breathlessly.

Zell paused at the door, shooting Seifer a glare that could have frozen vodka as he snarled, "I'll tell you what, if you think hair-pulling is a woman's strop, just wait and see where I kick you the next time you pull this bullshit with me!"

He slammed the door shut and stalked away down the corridor, but not before he had heard Seifer laughing in response. 


	10. Chapter 10

"This is it, I suppose," Seifer said, looking somewhat unenthusiastically up at the rather small and cheap-looking hotel just across the street. Zell, standing to the side and a ways behind him, keeping the same almost offensive distance he had been maintaining since they exited the train, made a scoffing sound.

"Don't tell me you were expecting the Ritz," he said mockingly.

"No, but..." Seifer shrugged; he didn't know what he had been expecting, but somehow this slummy little place sitting on the fault line between the business and shopping districts seemed decidedly anticlimactic. Something a little more... well, glamorous would have been nice. Not that it probably mattered - Seifer had a feeling that Zell wouldn't be any more receptive to his advances had they been in the penthouse suite at the Galbadia Grand Hotel, as opposed to this shabby and drab little place. He was certainly going to have his work cut out for him, winning Zell over; their little altercation on the train had set him back quite a ways more than he had anticipated. Zell hadn't returned after storming out of the train car until just as they arrived, and then only to dash inside long enough to snatch up his luggage and escape before Seifer could even begin to think about trying something. He had carefully kept the same steady distance between Seifer and himself as they walked to the hotel, and even now was standing so far away you'd have thought he was expecting Seifer to pounce on him at any moment. It was a bit funny, after he got over the slight insult that this seemed to be.

Seifer hadn't planned what had happened on the train, but he didn't regret it. Looking back over the encounter, he was mostly surprised, in fact, by Zell's having instigated it as he did; he hadn't expected the other man to just come out with it so bluntly like that, demanding to know if Seifer was in love with him. And how the hell was he supposed to answer a question like that? Lying would take all the fun out of the fight, but telling Zell the truth was out of the question. Pissing around with him until he was so angry he forgot what he originally intended to ask was the only way to deal with Zell. The fist fight and the short-but-oh-so-sweet makeout session were just bonuses, as far as Seifer was concerned.

Now _there_ was something he couldn't dwell on enough. Kissing Zell had been a completely spontaneous action - spontaneity not being something he was often prone to - but there was just something irresistibly charming about Zell when he was spitting mad that only made Seifer want to see just how far he could push him. _Either that, or I'm secretly a masochist,_ Seifer mused to himself, considering how all his encounters with Zell tended to end with a fist in his gut. Still, the reaction he'd gotten out of the other man was well worth suffering a bruised rib or two - and there was something else to ponder, as well; any failure on Zell's part to fight back against Seifer was always suspicious, and not only had there been a very conspicuous lack of fight, but he was quite certain that Zell had been really getting into the kiss just before they were intruded upon, and Seifer had to wonder what could - what _would_ - have happened had they not been interrupted. The possibilities were positively giddying.

The question was, how was he going to get back in Zell's good graces again, and quickly if possible? Seifer was more determined than ever now to have him, though when he thought about it, he wasn't entirely sure why he felt so compelled to make Zell succumb to him. But he wasn't one to go against instinct, and there was something about the martial artist, something Seifer couldn't quite put his finger on, that just made him want to dominate - in more than one sense of the word. His reactions were so idiosyncratic that it was almost a shame _not_ to try and provoke them; at least that's what Seifer kept reminding of himself, although every once in a while a feeling not unlike fondness nagged at the back of his mind when he thought of Zell.

He had to admit that it was very hard to actually dislike Zell, even if it it was not quite easy to get along with him. True, he was loud and boisterous almost to the point of being infantile sometimes, but his zeal for life was admirable. And he never really knew when to shut up, but considering that the only people Seifer ever had anything that could resemble a conversation with on a regular basis were Fuujin and Raijin (and when they were abroad, he could sometimes go for days without conversing with another person), Zell's talkativeness was, more often that Seifer would have owned, welcome. He was endlessly amusing in all his actions, and Seifer couldn't deny that he wasn't exactly unpleasant to look at, either. Not that he'd say he was attracted to Zell, not particularly, but all the same he wasn't opposed to an attraction.

_I'm making excuses to like him,_ Seifer realized suddenly as he thought. That couldn't be right.

"You coming or what?" Zell shouted to him, skirting wide around him and trotting across the street to the hotel. Seifer almost laughed at himself, grabbing his luggage and following after the other man, for his momentary lapse into girlishness - what did it matter if he did or didn't like Zell? He was determined to have him, and that was the end of it; whether or not he loved, liked, or could even tolerate Zell was all beside the point.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Zell was murmuring, presumably to himself as there was no one else around, as Seifer entered the hotel lobby. It was, admittedly, better on the inside than the exterior of the building suggested - bare, but tidy and clean, managing to look as though they were going for a minimalist look instead of simply being too cheap to furnish the place properly with things that would probably just get stolen by drunk guests anyway. It was surprisingly nicer than he had expected. Zell, turning around and startling slightly as he noticed that Seifer was right behind him, added, "Er... we're meeting up with Caraway at one, and then I think there's actually a party tonight, so we probably shouldn't waste any time. I'll go get us checked in and you can wait right here."

"Would you relax a little?" Seifer replied, perhaps a bit sharply, for Zell looked very taken aback. Scoffing, he went on, "for fuck's sake, it's not like I'm going to attack you as soon as you turn your back. Have a little faith in people."

Zell paused for a moment, thinking this over as he looked Seifer over with a decidedly stony eye, and he said, "are you being serious or are you just fucking with me again?"

"Of course I'm serious," Seifer answered, putting on his most earnest expression in attempt to appear completely sincere, which he by no means was. Zell seemed to be willing to believe this, because he visibly relaxed after a moment; Seifer thought he could almost see the gears turning in Zell's head as he worked up to accepting what Seifer had said, and the moment where his defenses dropped was almost manifest. _After all I've fucked him about, he's still too trusting by half,_ Seifer thought to himself - would the boy never learn? - but he couldn't help adding, with just a touch of a smirk on his face, "I'd at least wait until we're in private."

The change in Zell's demeanor was instantaneous; his guard snapped right back up, and he spun around abruptly, probably not accidentally swinging the heavy end of his duffel bag into Seifer's side and nearly sending the gunblader flying with the force of it. "Oops, sorry," he said coolly, clearly very not sorry. "Watch where you're standing there. I'll go check in."

Seifer chuckled to himself, clutching his side as Zell stomped away in an adorable show of pique. Looked like he was back to square one, but it was worth the look on Zell's face, every time. It just never got old. Grinning, and still wincing just a bit, he took a minute to collect himself and then hobbled over to the front desk to join Zell.

"Here, there's a key for you and one for me," Zell turned from the counter, holding out a plastic card folded in a white paper envelope. "The room's 131. Don't forget it. Luckily it's just on the first floor-"

"What, one room?" Seifer interrupted, frowning. Zell looked distinctly unhappy, and he gave a forlorn sort of sigh.

"Well, what d'you expect, everywhere's completely booked. There's a million people in town right now," he said darkly, scribbling out what might have been a signature on a sheet of paper and then pushing it back toward the young woman behind the desk. "I'd say we're just lucky we made the reservations beforehand, and that SeeDs get privileges, else we'd be completely shit out of luck."

"It is our nicest lower-level suite, you know," the clerk chimed in with the nervous air of a desperate salesperson, although Seifer thought she looked as though she wanted to add, "not that that's saying much," but she didn't go on. Zell, at mention of the word "suite", shot a frosty and menacing glare Seifer's way, wiping the grin right off the other man's face.

"You even _think_ the word 'honeymoon' and I'll gullet you," Zell snarled mutinously.

"Wasn't going to," Seifer replied with a flash of a smile, "but it's nice to know what's on _your_ mind, Dincht."

Zell blinked, and then promptly turned a vivid shade of red Seifer had rarely seen him achieve, a reaction that very blatantly said that he had hit pretty near the truth, though he had been half-joking with the comment. Seifer had to wonder if Zell wasn't doing it on purpose, setting Seifer up to zing him so often - was it even_possible_ for someone to be so easy? - just to screw with _him_; but he discounted the theory on the basis that Zell was simply not that calculating - he probably didn't even realize how open and revealing of himself he usually was with his reactions to Seifer's taunts, reactions which were only getting more and more amusing as he fell further into the trap Seifer was seductively luring him toward. Or something along those lines. Seifer found he was doing less planning and more playing it by ear than he had been early on, but his objective hadn't changed; one way or another, he was going to get Zell to succumb to him.

He hopped swiftly to the side as Zell sprung forward suddenly, his fist occupying the space where Seifer's abdomen had been just moments ago. "Ha," he said triumphantly, smirking down at Zell, who was red to the ears and looked a little more than furious - but Seifer's victory was short-lived as Zell's other fist came to a painful halt squarely in his chest, and he was thrown backward into the counter behind him. The receptionist uttered a quiet scream, and Zell looked down, marginally calmer and infuriatingly smug, as Seifer fought to catch his breath, clutching the ledge for support. He hadn't been quite prepared for that.

"See what being an arsehole gets you!" Zell huffed before turning on his heel and striding magnificently off toward the stairs in a way that was disturbingly reminiscent of the frequent tantrums Seifer had suffered through when he dated a certain young sorceress a few years back. Somehow, Zell made petulance seem a lot more endearing than Rinoa ever did, but Seifer chalked that up to the greater dislike for the latter than he felt for the former; Zell at the worst of times was still quite tolerable, but Rinoa had been simply too flighty to handle at any time.

A strange notion suddenly struck upon Seifer. _Did I just compare Zell to my ex-girlfriend?_ he mused to himself, slightly surprised at this turn of his own thoughts.

"Are you alright?" the girl behind the counter asked timidly, and Seifer heard for the first time a soft Trabian lilt to her voice. She was staring worriedly down at him with big hazel eyes, and he was reminded unpleasantly of another Trabian he knew.

"Quite fine, thanks," he replied, standing up and straightening his jacket. "Don't worry, just a lover's spat," he added with a roguish grin, and the girl looked confused for a moment before going pink. She uttered a quiet "oh," and didn't seem to know what else to say. Seifer had to bite back his laughter - as long as he continued to be surrounded by fools, life was just grand.

* * *

He caught up with Zell, who had evidently gotten a bit lost in the hallways, just outside the door to their room. "Oh, so you made it then?" he said coldly, giving Seifer a disdainful glance as he approached. At least he was acknowledging Seifer's presence now, however, which was a step in the right direction.

"Please," he replied scornfully, "it'll be a sad day indeed when you can put me down with just one hit."

"Good to know," Zell said with a smirk of his own, slipping his keycard into the door. "I won't pull my punches anymore."

_Ooh, what's got into him today?_ Seifer wondered to himself, realizing that what he was feeling toward Zell at that particular moment was something like admiration. The martial artist had been noticeably more on the ball today than he normally was, since the encounter in the train car, and though Seifer rather liked a flustered, annoyed, panicky Zell, there was something very appealing - one might say refreshing - about Zell being able to hold his own. Not that Seifer had ever doubted he _could_, if he tried, but he just always seemed to be more inclined to fighting back physically than verbally. Of course, this sudden change in demeanor was probably due to Zell now being more afraid than ever of getting at all close to Seifer, which was a bit off-putting, but certainly wasn't enough to deter Seifer - if anything, Zell's aversion to being near him only proved that there was something more there that the younger man didn't want to admit to, and made Seifer all that much more determined to get it out of him.

Zell pushed the door open and stood just inside for a moment, looking around, while Seifer waited somewhat impatiently in the hall behind him. "Oi, d'you plan on going in or what...?" he muttered. He stepped up behind Zell, on the sudden idea that a closer proximity might put a little spring in the other man's step; the result was almost instantaneous as Zell shot away from him, darting across the room and flinging his bags onto the bed near the window. When he turned around, however, he was grinning in a very secretive sort of way as he sat bouncily down on the bed.

"Dibs on the bed!" he declared cheerfully. Seifer, who had only just come through the doorway, hauling his luggage, stopped short, suddenly inexplicably apprehensive.

"What do you mean, 'the bed'? There should be two beds."

"There are," Zell said, flashing a cheeky grin and nodding toward the opposite side of the room. "The other one's in the sofa."

"The fuck you say!" Zell began to laugh as Seifer spun around wildly, storming through the small hotel suite, only to concede with a dismayed sigh two minutes later that the other man was quite right - there was only the pull-out sofa in the front part of the room besides the bed that Zell had already claimed, and the very smug, unyielding grin the martial artist was wearing showed clearly enough that he wasn't planning to give it up. Seifer grumbled under his breath, looking around for something to kick but there was nothing nearby but his luggage; he satisfied himself by knocking it roughly on its side, and then turned around to face Zell, who looked infuriatingly pleased with the situation, and he declared brusquely, "I'm not sleeping there."

"Well you're not sleeping here," Zell said quickly.

"I wasn't even going to go there, but if you're offering..."

"What about the word 'no' don't you understand?!" he snarled, jumping to his feet with fists poised.

"I don't know," Seifer replied, mock-thoughtful but with a hint of playfulness to his voice, "maybe it's something about the fact that you keep saying it, and then you go and do something like snog me in the train car..."

"You started that!"

"I might have started it, but you certainly didn't try very hard to finish it," the gunblader said matter-of-factly.

Zell flushed a charming shade of pink at this reminder, and he retorted gruffly, if not quite as vehemently as before, "do you want to get hit again?"

"Yes, Dincht," Seifer said with a sigh as he tossed cushions off the couch to get a better look at the pull-out, "I spend all my time thinking up ways to piss you off because I want you to hit me. Are you an idiot?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you liked it," Zell said in a sing-song voice, his own mood, it seemed, brightened by the fact that Seifer's had gone once more downhill. Seifer, choosing not to lower himself by answering to that charge, fought with the sofa for a further few minutes before he was able to get the mattress out, and he stood looking down at the sorry piece of furniture for a short while.

"I'm getting another room," he finally declared.

"Good luck," Zell laughed, watching smugly from the bed as Seifer wrestled the pull-out mattress back into place. "There's probably not an open room in the whole fucking city. Everyone's here for Caraway's lady's coming out."

"We'll see," Seifer murmured, stalking out of the room and down to the lobby with every intention of giving that Trabian bitch at the desk a piece of his mind - their nicest suite indeed! - however, fifteen minutes later when Zell came strolling through, that same maddeningly superior grin on his face, as Seifer was being told for the third time that the first available room wouldn't be open until the following thursday, he ultimately conceded defeat; it looked like Zell was right - if even a dump like this one was booked full for the next two weeks, it wasn't likely that there was anywhere left in the city that would take him.

"Any luck?" the martial artist asked chipperly, sidling up to the desk next to Seifer and looking as though he already knew full well that the other man had had no luck.

"You're surprisingly cheery for someone who was so opposed to sharing a room with me just before," Seifer bit back, but even this acerbic reply didn't seem to faze Zell any.

"I don't care about a room, I'm just not sharing a bed," he stated shortly, flashing a cheeky crooked grin. "You are, however, welcome to the floor if you want it. Can we get going? I don't want to be late and make a worse impression than just the fact that _you're_ there is already going to make."

He turned and walked away, leaving Seifer to stare open-mouthed after him in shock at such audacity. That was twice just in the last half hour that Zell had zinged him - either the boy was getting sharper, or Seifer was losing his touch, and that didn't bear thinking about. But this was fun, too - trading quips with Zell, instead of their usual routine of Seifer taunting him and Zell throwing a punch in response. Sure, it was probably just because Zell didn't want to risk being even near enough to him to get a good hit in, but that was not entirely a bad thing; if Zell was so acutely aware of his attraction to Seifer, it would make it all that much easier to get him to give in to it... and all that much more enjoyable, as well.

"He's leaving you behind," the Trabian girl pointed out quietly, giving him a sly look that suggested that she thought whatever cold behavior Zell was showing Seifer probably had coming. He stared at her for a moment, and she quickly busied herself with a stack of papers. Even civilians were getting uppity with him now - Hyne forbid he actually _was_ getting soft. He followed Zell out the door, musing on it, but he concluded that it wasn't himself getting slower, it was Zell getting quicker - he'd had too much exposure to Seifer's teasing, and he'd acclimated to it, that was the problem. He'd have to tone it down a bit from now on, but only a little bit, just enough to lull Zell into a false sense of security. As if it would be difficult - the boy was patently oblivious to what was in front of him, even when Seifer _wasn't_ trying to be subtle. And what fun it was, Seifer thought to himself, grinning as he followed out the door.

* * *

Zell was strangely quiet as they entered the Caraway estate and were shown into a small study by a man who looked more like a military guard than the butler he claimed to be, who informed them that the general would be with them in a few minutes before bowing and backing out the door, leaving them alone. Seifer took a moment to look around, although the office was nearly exactly what he would have expected; elegant and tasteful, but with just enough military memorabilia - a framed photo of Caraway standing with the president of Galbadia here, one of him looking at a complicated machine next to Odine there, a few plaques displaying service medals placed modestly back on a bookshelf - to serve as a gentle reminder that, despite a two-year absence from the political scene (due mainly, Seifer figured, to a spiteful stubbornness after having been so ruthlessly outed as the head of the army during the war,) General Caraway was still one of the most powerful and influential men in the country. He'd done very well for himself over the past couple of years - the Galbadian government, in shambles after the dissolution of the sorceress' reign, had practically begged Caraway to return to his former position (or so Seifer had heard,) and he hadn't made an easy task of it for them, either; but he did return, after a long enough waiting period that even the most diehard supporters of the old regime were pleading with him to take back control of the country, and he was now steadily, if slowly, building Galbadia back up as the interim president, and no one doubted that soon enough he would officially take over the presidency. _And to think,_ Seifer mused, half amazed at the idea, _if things had gone quite differently during the war, I might have been where he is right now..._

Zell was standing off to the side and hadn't said a word since they entered the mansion; he was staring pensively into the corner of the room, and seemed to be deeply in thought about something. What was the cause of this sudden suppression of personality, Seifer couldn't guess, but it _was_ odd, the way he kept jumping from one mood to the next - one moment teasing and laughing, the next angry, the next silent and grave. But maybe he was always like that, constantly flitting from one emotion to the next; as Seifer had spent most of his time with Zell up until just recently trying quite hard to keep him in a state of perpetual ire, it wasn't as if he had ever really paid attention to any of Zell's other moods. For some reason, the fact irritated him a bit, and he turned to Zell and sneered, "What gives, Dincht? Most of the time I can't get you to shut up, and now all of a sudden you're mute?"

Zell gave him a dirty look, but he shrugged carelessly, and began to pace around slowly in a restless manner. "I was just thinking..." he began but didn't finish, giving Seifer a meaningful look.

"What? Do you want me to congratulate you?" Seifer snapped crossly, and the other man shot him a disdainful glare.

"Fuck off," he huffed, shuffling his feet as he stopped pacing. "I was thinking about the last time I was here._You_ should remember that as well," he added sharply, turning and strolling aimlessly about the small study again.

"Hm," Seifer sighed, leaning against the edge of the desk, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. It was a few minutes before Zell broke the silence again.

"I was _thinking_," he went on thoughtfully, as though Seifer was not there at all and he was just thinking aloud, "the last time we were here, we still thought you were dead. Seems like a really long time ago, is all."

"You what?"

"Yeah," Zell mumbled, giving a half-shrug, and looking very much as though he wished he had never brought the subject up. "You know. It was right after that thing in Timber. Five years already, can you believe..."

"You thought I was dead?" Seifer repeated, frowning at this unexpected bit of information. Zell looked surprised at Seifer's not knowing.

"Well, they told us you'd been executed," he replied, as though it was common knowledge. And it probably was; Seifer had attacked and tried to kidnap the president of Galbadia, and had he not gone with the sorceress at the time, he certainly _would_ have been executed for such a transgression. But the whole memory of the event was hazy, as if shrouded in a fog; Seifer's recollection of the period of time between deciding to bust into the TV studio and finding himself, days later, standing next to the sorceress in the middle of Deling City was spotty at best. He was finding, more and more as time went on, that he couldn't quite remember a lot of things about that time of his life - whether because he _couldn't_, or because some part of him didn't_want_ to, he wasn't sure.

"When was that?" he asked.

"I dunno..." Zell thought about it for a moment. "Couldn't have been more than a day or two later, I think. We ran straight off from Timber to Galbadia Garden, and it was just after we got there they publicly announced the execution. Why, does it matter?"

"No, I'd just never heard," Seifer said with a shrug, but it nagged a bit at him - it simply didn't make sense; by that time, Vinzer Deling and Galbadia had been quite firmly in the sorceress' grasp, so why make a statement of execution? To throw somebody off? It was possible that she had already known about Caraway's assassination plot, and it wouldn't take too much reasoning to guess at whom he might hire for such a task, so it could have been that she was merely trying to throw the moral of his team, but it seemed unlikely, and unnecessary, for someone who was powerful enough to stop a sniper's bullet even before it hit to waste time trying to psychologically disable a team of assassins when she could just as easily overpower them physically.

_And why should I care?_ Seifer thought to himself, feeling irritated over the matter. But it bothered him nonetheless, now that he knew. The whole time he was by the sorceress' side, he had never seen her do something without a specific reason, a goal in mind. Maybe it wasn't her then. _Or maybe it was, and she was just fucking mad,_ he thought angrily, frustrated at himself for not wanting to let it go. Who cared why? It was in the past already, and he'd worked so hard to let all of that go; he wasn't going to ruin it now by dwelling on something as insignificant as this.

"I don't understand it," he mumbled to himself. Zell heard, and turned to look at him for a moment, a strange, confused sort of frown on his face.

"Well... you _did_ attack the president of the country on national television," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, thanks for that reminder, Dincht," Seifer spat, startling the other man with this sudden acidity. "D'you want to say it a bit louder and remind everyone else around here? Or maybe you can just play the video footage for Caraway, in case he's forgotten it?"

"What's your fucking problem all of a sudden?" Zell snipped back, looking half-angry and half-offended by Seifer's unexpected attack. "It was a dumbfuck thing to do, you musta known that at the time. Don't get all pissed off at me for your own stupid actions," he growled lowly.

"As I recall, _you_ were the idiot who went shouting about which garden the dumb fuck who attacked the president had come from," Seifer shot back trenchantly, his mood only slightly mollified by the expression of utter amazement that crossed Zell's face at this affront. "You're not one to talk about stupid actions."

"What's got into you?" Zell asked sharply.

"What was the point of bringing this up, Dincht?" Seifer said, ignoring the question. He took a few steps forward, stuffing his hands angrily down into his pockets and trying to look more nonchalant than he felt at the moment. What was Zell trying to do by telling him this? "Just nostalgic all of a sudden, I suppose?"

"Don't be a dick," Zell barked back, shooting Seifer a cutting glare, the quickness of this response surprising him. Looking aggravated and beginning to pace again, Zell went on, "We were all screwed up about that, alright? Don't fuck around."

"What?" Seifer said, somewhat less harshly; this surprising sentiment had caught him off-guard.

"No, really," Zell said, a half-amused expression flashing across his features as he nodded, as if to assure Seifer that he was telling the truth. "Squall had a total fit, ran out the room and all. But you didn't hear _that_from me."

Seifer was quiet, casting about for something to say, but nothing particularly smart came to mind. He hadn't expected to hear that, and from Zell of all people, someone who, after all the hell he had been put through during their school years, Seifer would have thought would rejoice at such an occasion. Something of this must have shown on his face, because Zell's expression went a bit softer, and he seemed less angry as he sat heavily down on a small, gaudily-upholstered sofa near the back of the room.

"For fuck's sake, it's not like you were our enemy or anything," he explained with the weary air of someone who had just given a great deal of mental exertion. "Whatever happened after, up until then, you were one of us. Course we all felt shit about it. Frankly, I'm kind of insulted that you'd think we _wouldn't_," he finished with a sigh, looking frustrated.

"Getting a bit sappy, aren't you?" Seifer grumbled, more gruffly than he intended mainly to hide the sudden wave of embarrassment that had overcome him at Zell's uncharacteristic confession, but the younger man didn't seem to appreciate his cynicism.

"Act like a prick if you want, but it's true," Zell said in a very final sort of tone, standing up again and bouncing restively on his feet. "I hated you back then, but hell, I didn't want you dead... and neither did anyone else."

He turned his back on Seifer then, and began to pace a bit more, every once in a while giving a small morose sigh while Seifer watched on. It was odd of Zell to be so divulging, especially about something that Seifer would have thought was the sort of thing the martial artist would take to his grave before admitting. He had never wondered about what the others had thought of his sudden disappearing act that day; he was so wrapped up in glory at the time that he hardly had time or emotion to spare fretting over people who might have been worried about him. Not that it had ever occurred to him that they _would_ worry, but to know that they had - well, it wasn't worth thinking about any more. It was in the past.

But why Zell had found this to be something he wanted to admit - or something that he thought Seifer would want to know - was beyond him. Seifer supposed that the city had unpleasant memories for the rest of them just as much as it did for him. Instead of mentioning on it, though, to get Zell's mind on a different track, he said noncommittally, "you hated me then?"

Zell glanced over his shoulder, looking agitated but sparing Seifer a glare that suggested that his question was ridiculous. "You know I did," he huffed.

Seifer paused a moment, a cocky grin stealing over his face at what Zell didn't even know he'd just confessed to. "Implying," he went on smugly, "that you feel differently now?"

"What?" Zell jumped around in a startled sort of way, looking suddenly very pink; but before he could answer to this accusation, or before Seifer could prompt him further, the door to the study opened, and they both spun round to face General Caraway as he entered.

"I appreciate your patience, gentlemen," he announced in an undeniably military manner, standing very stiffly just inside the doorway for a moment as he looked over a sheaf of papers in his hand. Seifer held himself a bit straighter, and he saw Zell doing the same, somehow - miraculously - tempering down the vivid shade of pink that had overcome his cheeks moments ago; Seifer briefly wondered how he could even do such a thing - he'd never seen evidence of such a talent before, and after the past few weeks he fancied himself something of an expert on making Zell flush, whether in anger or embarrassment - but now was really not the time; Caraway had finished with his file and shut it, placing it haphazardly on a bookshelf near the door, and was turning his attention to the two of them.

Zell stepped forward smartly, looking more serious and professional than Seifer thought he had ever seen the other man - but then, this was work, and Zell wasn't a SeeD for nothing. Seifer knew, of course, that the martial artist was good at fighting, but this mission was going to be more about diplomacy and tact than it was about fighting, and it hadn't occurred to him that Zell might have some talent in those areas as well, but here he was. Somehow, it was a little attractive - Zell the SeeD, rather than the loud-mouthed brat Seifer always still envisioned him being. Caraway looked him over approvingly, and Zell introduced himself properly, "Zell Dincht, SeeD rank A, sir."

_Holy fuck, he's rank A?_ Seifer thought to himself, completely surprised, but after considering it for a moment, it wasn't really so surprising. Zell was an instructor, after all, he'd been on dozens of missions with all varieties of perils, hell, he had fought right next to Squall against the sorceress to end the war - why shouldn't he be a highly-ranked soldier? Meanwhile, Seifer had been given a mere handful of assignments in the two years since he'd achieved rank, pissy errands the lot of them; and though he'd done himself exceptionally well on those, he liked to think, at this point in his career rank A wasn't even a pipe dream, it was a flat-out delusion.

But as he thought about it, it really wasn't anyone's fault but his own - he griped a lot about Squall never sending him on proper missions, but in truth he never did much to earn the right to them; he purposely avoided making friends with anybody, so it was natural that no one would want to partner with him; and if he wanted to be brutally honest with himself, there simply weren't a great deal of tasks he was equipped for these days - espionage was out, simply because he was instantly recognizable no matter where he went, and the demand for soldiers' labor was at an all-time low with the war years gone now. Magic users were always a hot commodity, but Seifer wasn't allowed a GF, even to train, so he had never become skilled in that area. He could complain all he wanted, but Squall would probably never have a proper use for him, which no doubt aggravated the headmaster just as much as it did Seifer; after all, who wanted a perfectly good soldier sitting around, wasting away fetching others back and forth from their missions? It was a terrible waste of his abilities, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

"Yes, I remember you," Caraway said to Zell in response, looking rather impressed as he offered his hand and Zell shook it. "Though it's been a while."

"Yes, sir."

"And..." Caraway went on thoughtfully, turning to Seifer with a closed expression on his face, lined and much more weathered than Seifer remembered it being the one time he'd met the man, years and years ago. "Yes, of course I know who you are," the general said with a very slight, unreadable smile, and he gave Seifer a short nod, as if in approval.

"Seifer Almasy, SeeD twelfth rank, sir," he announced himself promptly. Caraway swept by him wordlessly, striding toward the desk at the back of the room.

"It's a bit of an odd coupling, you two, isn't it?" he remarked, sounding amused but looking quite stern as both Seifer and Zell moved to stand before him. "The last time I saw either one of you, you were on opposite sides."

Seifer gritted his teeth; something about the way he'd said it seemed infuriatingly disdainful. Zell, however, a half-smile flitting across his face, replied buoyantly, "Oh, you've no idea, sir."

Seifer stared at him, but Caraway seemed to like this, for he gave a short bark that vaguely resembled a laugh as he began to search for something on his desktop, which was a mess of papers and files. Zell could have meant that any number of ways, of course, but Seifer had a feeling he knew _exactly_ what had been meant as Zell shot him a sly grin, as if to say, "yeah, I said it, so?"

"Well, I won't waste my time wondering how _this_-" Caraway waved his hand between the two of them to indicate exactly what "this" was "-came about. Squall assured me he'd send his best, so you two must be his best." Here he paused, giving Seifer a short glance-over, as though secretly remembering the words "twelfth rank", and Seifer had to force a smile. He'd had a feeling that he wouldn't like Caraway, and it wasn't gratifying at all to know he'd been spot on.

"Your objective is fairly simple, if perhaps not easy," Caraway went on to explain, picking up a clip binder thickly-packed with papers, rifling through it for a moment, and then setting it aside, casting an occasional glance up at one or the other of them as he spoke. "My wife fears there may be a certain party of individuals after her. She is hosting a large amount of events this month-" he said the word "large" with the same infliction another might say "ridiculous" "-and your job is to ensure that they all go as smoothly as possible. Keep an eye on her, be on the watch for anything suspicious, and do anything else she asks of you. That's the extent of it."

_Babysitting, then,_ Seifer thought gloomily to himself, but Zell chimed in, "So she's aware we'll be around?"

"I had originally planned it to be as covert as possible, but very little gets past her," Caraway answered with what might have been a fond smile. "But no one else is to know - if there _is_ anyone after her, I'd like to get a bead on them before they get scared off, if you know what I mean. Keep that in mind and be as discreet as possible."

"Of course, sir," Zell replied obediently. Seifer said nothing.

"You'll answer to her second only to me," the general continued, relocating a stack of thick books from one side of the desk to the other, and he gave a small exclamation of triumph as he seemed to find what he had been looking for this entire time. He pulled up two gray folders and held them out, one to Seifer and one to Zell, and though he was no longer smiling he seemed to be amused by something nonetheless. "She has prepared you each an itinerary."

_She's really got him by the balls, hasn't she?_ Seifer thought, suppressing a smirk at it, though he noticed the corner of Zell's mouth twitching in rather a similar way. The documents inside the folder were very thorough - which parties they would be attending on which dates, at which ones they were allowed to divulge their occupation as SeeDs and at which ones they were to be strictly undercover, even their dress code - _what does she think this is, a game of pretend?_ he scoffed to himself, but he couldn't hold back that grin after all; somehow he couldn't wait to actually meet this woman who had the guts to hire SeeD specialists and think she could order them around like common staff. Although, he had to remind himself, as long as she was paying for their time, they were very little less.

"It's very, erm..." Zell said, failing to sound as enthusiastic as he was trying to look, "comprehensive."

"Can I ask?" Seifer said hesitantly, flipping skatingly through the rest of the itinerary before looking back up at Caraway, whose full attention was now on him. "If your wife believes there's someone after her, why is she throwing a month's worth of parties upon just arriving here?"

"Dallia is not given to doing things in halves," Caraway said in a weary sort of tone, and he sat down in the high-backed chair behind the desk, sitting up very straight in it. "You'll understand better after you've met her, I suppose, but my wife has a way about her... a _charm_, you could say. If she wants to throw parties, who am I to say no to her?"

_In other words, she's a rich, spoiled princess, and she's got you tied around her diamond-encrusted little finger,_ Seifer thought meanly, but he simply nodded in response to Caraway's explanation, keeping his face impassive. Zell, beside him, was silent, and seemed to be thinking about something as he studied the file over, but he didn't speak yet.

"Are you two up for it, then?" Caraway asked, in a tone that suggested he was daring them to refuse it.

"Of course we are, sir," Zell said immediately, before Seifer could get out his own reply to that loaded question, and Caraway nodded approvingly. Zell seemed about to say something else, but stopped himself short, as though he couldn't quite find a way to phrase it. He glanced over at Seifer with an unreadable expression on his face, but just as quickly he looked away again.

"Everything is already taken care of as far as guest lists and invitations and such go, courtesy of my wife again," the general remarked in a voice that Seifer was now sure was distinctly amused, and it was becoming quite clear why. "You should have no trouble getting in wherever you need to be. She has turned the entire city out for these events."

"That so," Seifer couldn't help remarking under his breath; luckily it escaped Caraway's notice, but Zell shot him a rather admonishing glare.

"Is there anything else we ought to be aware of, sir?" he asked smartly, and Seifer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Professionalism was fine and all, but when the client wasn't even taking this assignment seriously - as Caraway clearly wasn't - Seifer felt that exempted him of the obligation to take it seriously, as well. But as long as Zell was playing up the rank for Caraway, Seifer wasn't going to let himself be upstaged.

"No, I don't think so. Everything should be covered in your itinerary," Caraway said with a huff of a laugh. "I'll be leaving tomorrow for a week in Esthar, so you'll have to make your first report back after I've returned. Dismissed."

Zell gave a short, stiff sort of bow - _if he salutes, I swear I'll kick him in the fucking head,_ Seifer thought bitterly - and the both of them promptly dropped off the radar as Caraway turned his attention to the small mess of documents on his desktop as he tried to sort them out. Typical government heels; the hired help were invisible as soon as they were finished being ordered about. As the general was no longer watching, Seifer allowed himself a disdainful sneer at the man's expense, one that didn't go unnoticed by Zell, whose narrowed eyes promised punishment for the impropriety.

They were escorted off the manor grounds by the military butler, and together headed back toward the hotel under a gray, gloomy sky. Zell looked morose and thoughtful as he walked alongside Seifer, seeming to have forgotten his earlier resolution to keep a distance. "What do you think of this?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I think it's piss work, and they're mocking us," Seifer replied honestly, giving a careless shrug.

"Yeah?" Zell chewed on the corner of his lip, pondering it. "It looks like some kind of trap any way you view it, I think."

"What it _looks_ like, is that Caraway married some high society princess who thinks it'll be fun to hire SeeDs for playmates while she's in town," Seifer spat. Zell looked doubtful.

"D'you really think...? I mean, Caraway's got to know better."

"Knowing better doesn't make a fucking bit of difference if she's got him on a leash," Seifer pointed out.

Zell thought about it, frowned, sighed, and conceded, "Yeah, I suppose. Fuck, what's Squall thinking, taking this on? I'm rank A for fuck's sake," he grumbled, looking seriously disgruntled at this. His expression was so perfectly resentful - and so very _adorable_ - that Seifer had to laugh, though to go by the instantaneous darkening of Zell's bearing, he had just set himself back another week of winning the other man over.

"Welcome to the world of grunt SeeD work, Dincht," he said chipperly, flashing a cheeky grin Zell's way; Zell, in response, gave him a look that suggested he'd like very much to punch Seifer at that moment. For whatever reason, he didn't, and Seifer felt a bit cheered by the fact, insolently adding, "and just think, we've got a whole month ahead of us..."

"Shiiit," Zell groaned.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hurry it up, would you?" Seifer called from the other room for the third time already, his imperious tone grating more and more on Zell's nerves.

"Fuck off," Zell hissed under his breath, fumbling with the last of the bazillion buttons up the front of his jacket; blasted SeeD uniforms were so ridiculously overcomplicated, probably a throwback to some ancient race's military, but every time he had to put the damn thing on he found himself cursing whatever brilliant mind came up with the idea that buttons would do easier than a zip. Luckily he didn't have much cause to wear it often, but even so it was annoying. The thought that it was probably fashioned by Edea didn't mollify him any - what was she thinking, designing something so impractical for military use? Although there was one good point, Zell recalled as he thought of Seifer in the other room; once on, the uniforms were fiendishly difficult to get off. He had an unpleasant feeling that the other man was plotting something dastardly, and any little bit of defense Zell could get was appreciated.

Seifer peeked round the door of the bathroom, where Zell was currently fighting with the silver fastening of the shoulder-piece. "Pardon, did you say something?" the gunblader asked with mocking politeness.

"I said fuck off, you're pissing me off," Zell growled, and Seifer's grin widened. This was clearly his aim, and Zell knew he was playing right into the other man's hands, getting nettled so easily, but Seifer's barbs had been chipping away at his patience the entire afternoon, and it appeared he wasn't going to quit until he got the reaction he wanted out of Zell. He had been aggravatingly cheery today - at least, since they'd arrived in Deling City - and though Zell didn't know quite why, he had an unnerving suspicion that it had to do with whatever plan Seifer was hatching against him.

"What else is new?" Seifer mumbled, retreating for the moment, but Zell could still hear him pacing in the other room as he finished doing up the fastener on his uniform, straightened, and looked over his reflection in the mirror. _Not too shabby,_ he thought with a small smile, patting the wrinkles out of the front of his jacket. He still never felt entirely at ease in full uniform. He smoothed his hair to the side - he should have gotten it trimmed before the trip; it was getting too long to be doing much with - and nodded in approval of himself. He would never have the charisma of people like Seifer and Squall, who always looked as though they were born to stand around in uniform, but even so, he pulled it off nicely enough. _Bit taller wouldn't do any harm, still,_ he thought absentmindedly.

"We haven't got all night for you to stand around and stare at yourself, Dincht," Seifer's derisive drawl came floating in from the other room. Zell went out to find him lounging on the pulled-out sofa bed, which he had grudgingly accepted as his fate when they'd returned to the room after the meeting with Caraway. Even just lazing about, Seifer looked uncommonly attractive in full SeeD regalia, and when he stood up, Zell had a chance to admire his figure for a moment; tall, well-built, broad-chested, Seifer looked every inch the stuff of fantasies for teenage girls worldwide. If Garden needed a poster boy, Seifer could have been it. _Shame he's such a dick,_ Zell thought, _otherwise, who _wouldn't_want him?_

"I know I look good, but you can try to keep from drooling," Seifer remarked as he came around the end of the bed, pulling his cuffs a bit straighter and smirking teasingly.

"Don't flatter yourself," Zell replied bitingly, turning away - _caught staring, what's wrong with you?_ he mentally chided himself. Seifer was smiling knowingly, but Zell ignored him, trying to remain impassive. He slid past the other man and went into the small kitchenette to draw a glass of water from the tap, all the while feeling Seifer's eyes on his back. And what the hell was he staring for, anyway? Like he'd never seen Zell in uniform before. Zell turned round, glaring coolly down the other man, who was leaning quite casually inside the doorway. "What? Am I that hot you can't keep from staring?"

Seifer gave a bark of laughter, waving the comment by as though choosing to not even acknowledge the absurdity of it. "I was just wondering how, after five years of wearing the uniform, you still manage to look like a little kid playing dress-up when you put it on."

"Fuck you, Almasy," Zell spat, guzzling his water and trying to remain as cool as he told himself he was going to be whenever Seifer tried to rattle him, although it was certainly much easier said than done. "If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Are you ready to go?"

"I've only been waiting for _you_ for the past fifteen minutes," Seifer replied coldly, smiling.

_As well you fucking should!_ Zell thought vindictively, but he bit his tongue to hold the comment back - it was no use getting all riled up when they had to work, even if Seifer had been going to extraordinary lengths to nettle him the whole day. That Seifer was trying harder than before only meant that Zell's attempts at nonchalance were working to some extent, after all. He was still waiting for the part where Seifer began to lose interest in teasing him, as Miri had all but promised him would happen, but then it _was_ only a day into this new regimen; it would naturally take a bit more time for Seifer's thick mind to process the fact that Zell's new reactions - or non-reactions, as it were - were permanent and not simply a fluke.

Except Seifer wasn't thick - he was in fact quite annoyingly sharp and astute, Zell knew, and despite Miri's arguments against the point, he had to think that Seifer's habits of twenty-odd years weren't going to be broken so easily by something as flimsy as psychology. Zell didn't put much stock in it, and he knew Seifer too well, while Miri, educated in the ways of the human psyche as she might have been, just didn't _get_ Seifer like he did. There was simply nothing _textbook_ about Seifer. His strange, fluctuating attitudes toward Zell over the past few weeks were proof enough that he actively tried not to conform to the usual conventions of society; he preferred to skate just outside the rules, playing nice enough to keep Xu and her reformed disciplinary committee off his case and then turning to nip at the heels of propriety from behind the line while everyone's backs were turned. There were probably a good handful of things Seifer knew about Zell that he could have used to blackmail his way into anything Zell could offer that he wanted, but instead the ex-knight seemed to be toying with him - _taunting_ him, almost. Not just the normal, everyday insults and digs that Zell had long been accustomed to - that was a part of it, but Seifer's entire disposition toward Zell was taunting, the jibes and mockery, the come-ons, as if he was trying to provoke him into some trap, but Zell didn't know what. What had Zell worried was knowing that Seifer was very likely to succeed at whatever he was getting at, too; try as he might to remain collected and cool against the gunblader, Seifer was uniquely talented at incensing him and usually could have Zell furious before he'd even realized he was getting angry. Saying he was going to keep his temper in the face of Seifer's derision was one thing; actually doing it was quite another.

He thought about it as they exited from the hotel and headed out for the nearest bus stop; the mantle of clouds blanketing the sky had cleared and Zell stared up into the muted blue as he mused over the problem. What was Seifer after? Zell was determined to figure it out, even if that meant playing Seifer's weird, twisted game, although he would certainly rather not if he could help it. Seifer was manipulative, but quietly so; Zell was afraid he would be lured into the other man's grasp before he knew it and then be unable to escape. And maybe not solely because of his manipulativeness, either - Zell was finding that he was increasingly attracted to Seifer, more than he had first thought himself to be, and if the other man was determined to seduce him, Zell wasn't sure he could resist. The attraction had been so slight at first, little more than a twinge at the periphery of the wide spectrum of emotions he felt toward Seifer (ranging from irritation to rage to flat-out loathing,) so it was easy to ignore it, but ever since that kiss in the train car, it had been rapidly expanding inside him, effortlessly pushing the other emotions aside and compacting them with its bulk, so that now when Seifer provoked or baited him, instead of getting angry all he could think about was how fucking delicious Seifer's lips looked when he was smirking like that and how much he wanted to kiss him for other reasons than simply to shut him up. It had been mere hours since that kiss, and Zell was beginning to think that he might go mad trying to suss out what the other man was up to, but he was resolved not to give in to Seifer; he might as well just lay down and admit defeat.

The best recourse, he began to think, would be to play at Seifer's game from the other end - make the gunblader want _him_ enough to make the first move, before Zell got so frustrated he made a move himself. The only flaw in that plan, however, was that Seifer didn't seem to be actually attracted to him at all; he was, for whatever reason, bent on getting _something_ out of Zell, but as far as Zell could see it didn't appear to be because Seifer felt any sort of desire or attraction toward him. More likely than not it had to do with pride - Seifer felt somehow that Zell had slighted his ego and was now intent on returning the favor by destroying the martial artist's dignity. But whatever the motive, the fact remained that Seifer was plotting against him, and would probably accomplish whatever it was he was setting out to accomplish if Zell didn't take some preventative action.

But still... seducing Seifer! _What's my life coming to?_ Zell thought sadly to himself as they walked along the curb toward the bus that would take them down to the Galbadia Grand Hotel. Seifer was walking beside him - a few feet away, as per Zell's careful precautions to keep a safe distance from him - unusually quiet and thoughtful, every once in a while casting a glance over Zell with a strange, closed sort of look.

"If you've got something to say, just fucking say it," Zell snapped after a few minutes of this, growing irritated with Seifer's somehow patronizing stare.

"Well, attitude much, Dincht?" Seifer hummed.

"Piss off."

"You wanna watch your language?" he said smilingly; Zell waited for the insult that was bound to follow that expression, and it wasn't long in coming. "Even if you can't help but _look_ like a rookie, you could try to act the professional you're supposed to be."

"Fuck you, Almasy," Zell said - probably for the tenth time already today; he was losing count - and he snipped back, "Caraway knows me and he knows I'm more than capable. And if anyone needs to watch their fuckin' attitude, it's you," he added shortly, giving a wry grin. "Or did you forget that I've got more'n three years seniority over you?"

"That doesn't change the fact that you look like my sidekick," Seifer retorted happily.

"Bite me!" Zell snapped, scuffing his boots on the sidewalk as he tried to resist the urge to kick Seifer where it'd really hurt - woman's strop or no, he'd do it, damn if Seifer didn't think he would - and he walked a little faster, trying to get some distance between the other man and himself before he really _did_ do something reckless. Obvious as it was that Seifer was aiming to rile him up, Zell still found that he couldn't _help_ but be riled - it was one thing saying he'd act cool, but it was a completely different story actually _doing_ it most of the time, at least right now, when he was already so high-strung for so many other reasons, not the least of which had a lot to do with wanting quite badly to shag the jerk who was riling him up in the first place.

As if having the hots for Seifer was the worst of his problems right now! How was he supposed to get through this mission working hand-in-hand with a guy he despised in just about every sense, a guy who went out of his way to provoke and taunt him whenever he could, who _knew_ about Zell's attraction to him and seemed entirely inclined to use the mortifying fact of it against him in any way that he could, who was not just a complete arsehole but a shrewd, clever, and intuitive one to boot, who nine times out of ten could outwit Zell in a heartbeat - really, the only plane in which Zell was confident he could take Seifer fairly, if not even _easily_, was the physical one, and he couldn't exactly go around pummeling on the other man every time he started annoying him. Squall would have a hissy fit if it started getting out that his SeeDs could't even handle simple bodyguard detail without skirmishing amongst themselves - not to mention, it wouldn't really be in line with his whole "keeping cool" plan.

But that line of thought became quite suddenly very unimportant when Zell looked up to realize that Seifer had come up right alongside him, (_damn him and his long stride!_ he cursed internally), and Zell didn't even have a thought to spare for wondering just what Seifer was doing so very close to him, his teeth bared in a wicked grin as he purred, "with pleasure." Zell's first reaction was naturally to punch now and ask questions later, and he even had his arm up and ready to deck Seifer a good one when all thought processes were brought to an abrupt halt as the gunblader leaned in, yanking the collar of Zell's uniform to one side, and sank his teeth hard into the flesh at the juncture of the blonde's shoulder and neck, and for the few seconds it took Zell's brain to catch up to the fact that Seifer had literally just _bit_ him, he was at leisure to entertain thoughts like _oooohhh_ and _I think I could get used to that_.

And then Seifer was stepping back, smirking, which reminded Zell that he was definitely _not_ supposed to be enjoying the feeling of Seifer's lips on his neck that much, and also that he probably should be inflicting some kind of bodily harm on the other man just now if there was to be any hope of salvaging his reputation from this encounter or, failing that, at least some of his dignity. _Fuck keeping cool, that arsehole just _bit_my _neck! he told himself angrily, spinning round to grab Seifer by the front of his well-pressed uniform, slamming him against a nearby wall and snarling, "what the fuck's wrong with you, Almasy?!"

Seifer, still grinning impishly even as he took a moment to catch his breath - Zell _had_ pushed him rather hard, not that he was regretting it - looked so positively smug that Zell was hard put not to clout him after all. "Oh, I'm sorry," he cooed, his tone infuriatingly superior. "I thought you gave a command... _senior officer._"

"Listen, shithead," Zell growled, twisting the front of Seifer's jacket in his fist. "I've got no fuckin' problem sending you back to Garden with a few broken bones and finishing this joke of a mission on my own if you keep trying this shit."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Seifer said innocently.

"Then I'll make it as fuckin' simple as I can," Zell hissed, snarling. "_Stop coming on to me!_"

Seifer reached out and snatched the front of Zell's uniform with one hand, yanking the other man toward him and chuckling quietly, his face an inch from Zell's. "But it's very fun," he said softly, flicking his tongue out across his lower lip for a few languid seconds. His expression was all but innocent, but Zell didn't miss the intention behind such an action, and he jerked stiffly away, face red-hot, and busied himself trying to straighten his wrinkled collar to avoid looking back at Seifer, who no doubt was as unaffected as he ever was. He really didn't have any shame, didn't he?

"You're a bastard," Zell spat bitterly, but without much bite. Seifer only grinned wider.

"I can't help what I am."

Zell looked around, incredulous. Completely unaffected, just as the martial artist expected. "You _bit_ me!" he said accusingly; Seifer, in response, merely shrugged.

"You said, 'bite me'."

"Don't be an idiot, I know you know I didn't mean that literally!"

"Well, that's the problem with you, Dincht," Seifer replied casually, sidling easily along next to Zell, his face the very picture of triumph. "You say a lot of things you don't mean, don't you?"

He flashed a smirk back at Zell and then walked on ahead, leaving the other man a few steps behind, angry and bewildered yet again.

* * *

"Like what?" Zell wondered crossly to himself two hours later, still puzzling over it as he and Seifer stood off to the side of the massive ballroom that had been rented out for Mrs. Caraway's event, watching the last series of guests finally file in. Seifer had been paying him very little attention since they'd arrived among the very first guests, which had given Zell plenty of time to wrestle with the question on his own, because, barring the issue of how Seifer would even _know_ if he was, what did the other man suspect Zell had been lying about?

For the most part, Zell really didn't think he lied to anyone, much less to Seifer, who so easily saw right through him that any attempt to hide the truth from him was usually fruitless. In the first place, Zell didn't particularly like lying - honesty was the best policy, Ma had taught him when he was just a kid, and he stuck by that. There was the small matter of his attraction toward Seifer (okay, maybe it was more of a giant, horrible, all-consuming matter), but his continuing to deny that he didn't see so much as a lie, since he was half desperately hoping to convince himself of it still - and besides, something about the way Seifer had framed his accusation made Zell suspect that it was about something deeper, something that perhaps Zell himself didn't even realize he was doing, which was frightening. Or there was the possibility that it didn't mean anything at all, that Seifer was just trying to throw Zell off his game again, and if Zell was smart, he probably would have been a lot better off just to not let it bother him one way or the other. But it bugged him, and knowing that that was most likely Seifer's aim didn't stop him from thinking about it yet.

"What I don't get is why we had to be here two bloody hours ago, when she hasn't even shown up yet," Seifer muttered suddenly, as though they had been in the middle of a conversation even though it had probably been thirty minutes or more since they'd spoken to one another at all. He looked disgruntled, and Zell realized he was talking about Caraway's wife, who hadn't as yet made her appearance at the party, although the General himself had shown up an hour ago and was mingling expertly with the guests.

Zell shrugged, and after thinking about it for a moment, offered, "well, officially we're here as representatives of Balamb, who'd have to be here on time regardless of whether or not the hostess was." Seeing that Seifer clearly disliked this explanation, Zell added with a small grin, "she's probably the type who wants to make a big, flashy entrance once everyone's already here. That's the impression I gathered."

"But what's the fucking point of standing around when the person you're supposed to be guarding isn't here to guard," Seifer grumbled nevertheless, and then he went silent again, evidently meaning to go back to ignoring Zell until any further event forced them to interact - a few people had approached them for introductions since the party began, and they'd had to strive to be polite and amiable to each other for the sake of appearances, but they hadn't had to mingle nearly as much as Zell had anticipated they would, probably, he suspected, because of Seifer, who it seemed was making an effort to appear surlier and more unfriendly than anyone else in the room, and he was doing a fine job at that. Quite a lot of people seemed to recognize the gunblader, which was likely a contributing factor as well; and to go by the dirty looks and occasional snide remarks the other man made scornfully under his breath, it would appear that he recognized some of them, too, and Zell had to wonder if it was from the ex-knight's fleeting time in a position of power in Galbadia. Zell thought he could place a few faces but he hadn't seen anyone he knew, except for a flash of brown hair and SeeD regalia at the other end of the room that might have been Selphie, but was moving too fast for him to be sure. But it was to be expected; Fuujin and Raijin usually served as the ambassadorial pair for Garden, unless Squall couldn't manage to finagle his way out of actually going himself, and so most of the other SeeDs at Balamb Garden were exempt from emissary work. Then again, this wasn't exactly a state event or some political conference, so it wouldn't be entirely suspect for there to be some new faces among the crowd.

The work wasn't that hard, for its part; people had come over to be introduced from time to time, but rarely did anyone want to hang around long enough to carry on a conversation, which was just as well, since Zell couldn't imagine how he would hold his ground against the Minister of Commerce or Esthar's Secretary of Cabinet. Most of the people they'd met so far were big shots; council members, sponsors for the various corporations, and a couple of them close friends of the General and his wife. Zell presumed it was for appearances on their end too - it's not how many people you know, it's _who_ you know, and all that - and considering that Balamb Garden right now was the most powerful military organization in the world, it showed some sense. After a while of standing there watching the room, he could tell who the newcomers to the arena were simply by who they mingled with first - while the rich and powerful were all intent on showing they were on good terms with every military operation represented there, the greenhorns simply didn't know enough to realize that this was important.

Zell tugged self-consciously at his collar, pulling it up as high as he could. Damn Seifer and his sadistic tendencies. He could already feel the skin bruising where the other man had bit him, and Zell prayed that it wasn't visible; all he needed was for someone he knew to show up and notice it, and with his luck, just that would happen. The uniform's collar was pretty high, but he still fidgeted with it on and off, feeling agitated.

"Quit that!" Seifer barked at him.

"Fuck you!" Zell snapped back, gritting his teeth angrily. He punched Seifer with a quick jab to the shoulder, sweeping the long ends of his hair away from his neck and craning his head away, pointing to the spot. "Is there a mark?"

Seifer peered at his neck for a few moments, looking speculative, and a grin began to grow on his face, but as he opened his mouth to reply, someone suddenly spoke behind them, "well, I don't believe that's Garden-appropriate language, boys."

Zell jumped and spun around, pawing his hair back over his neck, to see who it was, while Seifer did the same only marginally more calmly. The martial artist breathed a small sigh of relief, breaking into a grin as he said, "fuckin' christ, Irv, you scared me!"

"You're not on your guard, SeeD," Irvine said cheerfully, clasping Zell's hand in a friendly greeting, and diplomatically ignoring Seifer's roll of the eyes as he reluctantly obliged in the same. He smiled toothily, looking from Seifer to Zell and back again, and then said in a tone laced with amusement, "now, this is something you sure don't see every day. Which one of you is Squall punishing?"

"I'd like to know that myself," Seifer chipped in sourly, offering a cynical grin, before Zell could come up with a response himself, and Irvine chuckled.

"I see you're as sweet as ever, Almasy."

"What're you doin' here, then?" Zell said quickly before Seifer could come back with something really sharp and start a fight, which judging by his expression he looked primed to do.

"Same thing you are, ain't it?" Irvine said with a shrug, shuffling from foot to foot restlessly. "Representin' my Garden. Puttin' the good word out and all."

"I'm surprised you're out yourself, though," Zell replied questioningly. "I mean, don't you have someone to do this kinda shit for you? Squall always sends lackeys to these boring things."

"Yeah, normally I would, but I thought this seemed a bit more something I'd like to keep my eye on personally," the redhead said cryptically, giving Zell a pointed look that he wasn't quite sure how to interpret. Shaking his head, Irvine added, "anyway, I heard there were gonna be representatives from every Garden here tonight, so I thought I'd come and hang out anyway. Y'know, like a big fun reunion."

Zell snickered, and said, "so, you're hoping to run into Selphie, am I right?"

Seifer grimaced, watching the conversation between the two of them with an expression that suggested that he was mortified to even have to hear it, but Zell grinned wider as Irvine blushed faintly, looking the other way as he muttered, "well... yanno. So who else do we know here, anyone you seen?"

"No one _I_ know," Zell said with a sigh. "I thought I saw Selph runnin' around, but I can't be sure. Mostly it's been Senator this, Minister that, blah blah..."

"I see you've already blissfully forgotten about professionalism, Dincht," Seifer interrupted with a disdainful sneer in the martial artist's direction. Zell scoffed.

"It's Irvine! We know Irvine, remember, we're allies?"

Seifer hesitated, glancing quickly over at the Galbadian, who stared back challengingly, as though daring him to say what he was really thinking, but Seifer forewent answering and merely turned the other way, cutting himself out of the conversation. Zell rolled his eyes, grumbling to Irvine, "driving me fucking nuts, I swear."

"How _did_ you two end up working together like this? Even Squall's not that sadistic," the redhead asked, giving a pensive frown.

"I'd sure as hell like to know that myself," was Zell's answer, and he turned to cast a brief, stony glare at Seifer's back before facing Irvine again with an exasperated smile. "I swear, if I ever find out whose brilliant idea it was to make us work a fuckin' month together - augh, what the f-?!" Zell stopped short as an elbow jabbed unpleasantly into his ribcage, and he spun around to shoot a murderous stare at the gunblader, who was looking rather more than angry himself. He grabbed Zell by the front of his jacket and yanked him close, frowning deeply.

"Have you got a single goddamn brain cell in your head, Dincht?" he hissed quietly.

"What is your fucking problem today?" Zell snapped back, but also very softly - he wasn't unaware of the fact that Irvine, as well as a few others nearby, were watching the exchange with wary eyes, and Seifer released his jacket and stepped back coolly.

Irvine gave a wry, crooked grin, looking between the two of them with interest. "Oooh, SeeDs fightin', eh? Bet Squall wouldn't be too happy to hear about this."

"_You're_ my fucking problem, Dincht," Seifer said in a deadly soft tone, and although he looked very composed Zell could see that he was trying hard to stay calm. "Fifteen years you've been my fucking problem. This is work, we're on assignment here for fuck's sake, so why don't you try to keep your big mouth shut for a while, or is it too difficult for you, senior officer?"

Zell opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't think of a legitimate response to that - Seifer had nailed him, fair and square. He had been about to gripe to Irvine without even thinking about it, not even considering the fact that it was none of Irvine's business anymore; his ties were to Galbadia Garden. It was easy to forget that their gang had all gone separate ways, that there were things they couldn't share, in Zell's case, a hell of a lot of things - his waning relationship with Quistis lately was proof of that; even within his own Garden, there were aspects of his life that had to be kept under wraps for more reasons than just because they were mortifying to admit. If his relationship (twisted though it was,) with Seifer ever came out, it was Zell's job on the line, just the same as when he was on the job - silly though this mission was, it still was a _mission_, still work, still confidential until such time as Squall deemed whatever information they might come across during their stay in Galbadia safe to be distributed publicly.

"No need to be an arsehole about it," he said evenly, straightening up and trying to compose himself, more for the sake of the people watching the two of them than because he thought Seifer would be fooled by his trying to look cool. Seifer turned away again, and Zell looked back to Irvine, rolling his eyes and hoping the redhead wouldn't recognize his weak attempt to pass the encounter off as a joke. "He's been fucking riding me about how shit this trip is since we got here, like I don't understand how he feels," he offered by way of explanation. Irvine nodded knowingly.

"Don't Squall got ambassadors for this kind of thing, though? I mean, the pair of you?" He laughed wryly, staring over at Seifer's turned back. "Someone was huffin' something to think _that_ would be a good idea."

"You're telling me," Zell groaned.

"So, erm..." Irvine began hesitantly, peering sideways at Zell. "What _is_ that on your neck, mate?"

Luckily, Zell was spared answering that question by the sudden dimming of the lights; the room quieted, and two spotlights flashed on at opposite corners of the ballroom, weaving and gleaming through the crowd and finally ending at the top of the stairs, clearly to highlight whoever was about to enter. "Shit, I'll seeya later, D, I gotta get back to my post," Irvine whispered hastily, clapping Zell on the back and then backing into the crowd. Zell watched him go, disappearing behind panels of glimmering satin, swishing silk, and jewel-toned velvet, and a moment or two later he popped back up at the end of a row of Galbadian officials, standing primly upright and half-smirking with his attention turned toward the front entrance just like everyone else, and Zell almost had to laugh at how clear it was that no one had even noticed he'd gone. Unfortunately for him, a certain surly gunblader hadn't failed to notice _his_ absence, and grudgingly Zell went to stand in place beside Seifer.

"Look, I know you're not an idiot, Dincht, no matter how good a job you do of appearing to be one," he said, his tone muted - was he being, good lord, _apologetic_? Zell frowned, unsure of how to take this uncharacteristic development.

"Yes, thank you, captain bipolar," he answered sharply, and Seifer gave him a dirty look.

"I lost my temper, alright?"

Zell didn't reply, mainly because he couldn't think of a decent one - there were a number of things wrong with that statement, the least of which had to do with the fact that "Seifer" and "lose his temper" had never, to Zell's knowledge, been put in the same sentence before (at least not without a direct intermediary along the lines of "is very good at causing _ to"), and for that matter, did Seifer even _have_ a temper? Zell had seen him angry before, sure, all the time, but to show it, and in front of people? To actually, for however brief a time, be out of control of himself? Seifer, who, if in a slightly different meaning of the term, was routinely classified as being at Squall's level of Ice Queen-ness? And to _apologize_ for it?

"What are you fucking staring at?" Seifer growled under his breath.

"Sorry," Zell said with a careless shrug. "I was just wonderin' if you'd been abducted and replaced by aliens while I wasn't looking."

"Don't be stupid," Seifer scoffed, apparently either not interested or too impatient to finish what he wanted to say to waste any time worrying about the absolute weirdness of Zell's statement. "Listen, I know you and Kinneas were all best-buddies-for-life or whatever during the war, but that was five years ago. He's the headmaster of Galbadia Garden. You can't be so fucking loose with information around here."

Zell had to resist the overwhelming urge to simply stare in incredulity at the ridiculousness of the situation. Was Seifer really trying to _lecture_ him?

"I know you know how to do your job, so why don't you try to act like it for once," Seifer went on calmly.

"Alright, _Quistis_," Zell replied sharply, earning himself another dirty look for that slight.

"Don't be a dick."

"You're the one being a dick!" he hissed, and as a few heads turned toward them, he added more quietly, "where do you get off lecturing me, huh? Even if you're pissed off."

"I'm pissed off because I shouldn't _have_ to lecture you, chicken-wuss," Seifer argued back, but suddenly, he was smirking; and Zell, now completely bewildered, tried to trace the conversation back to find where the sudden reversal of mood came from, to no avail. Temperamental was never a word Zell would have used to describe Seifer on any grounds, but this was even a step further; he was acting like a girl... like Rinoa. Zell had to stuff a fist in his mouth and pretend to be having a coughing fit to hide the sudden outburst of giggles that had come over him at that thought.

It wasn't even the lecture that irked Zell, as completely out-of-character as it was for Seifer to lecture anybody about anything, because Zell knew he had been careless - it was so easy to forget that people who had once been allies, close friends, had all split up in the five years since the war; everyone was on different teams nowadays, and Squall (or Quistis or Xu) would certainly have had a fit if they knew that he almost let confidential information slip to the head of a rival Garden, despite the fact that they'd all grown up together. Especially regarding Irvine, Zell always had trouble remembering to hold his tongue - because Irvine himself hadn't changed a bit in five years, right down to the stupid ponytail and the stupid cowboy hat (which he was wearing even right now, naturally, managing to look too casual by half despite the designer suit he had donned for the dressy occasion,) was all in all the same goofy, grinning flirt that he'd always been, despite rumours that Zell had heard that he'd cut down on the philandering since taking up residency as the Headmaster of Galbadia Garden. It was too easy to forget that it had been five years since they fought together, alongside each other, to just want to gossip like they had used to, to want to bitch to Irvine about what a bastard Seifer was being lately, just like old times.

But one little slip like that didn't give Seifer the right to preach, especially when his own conduct, on or off the job, was so often completely skewed that Zell had to marvel at the fact that he'd even managed to become a SeeD in the first place. And it certainly wasn't cause for the other man to get so angry, to the point of actually publicly losing his temper. The more Zell contemplated it, the more it seemed that Seifer's moods directly inversely correlated with his own - when he was pissed off was the only time Seifer was ever in a good mood, and when Zell became cheery again was when the gunblader turned sour. Was he doing it on purpose, or was that just the way they matched up? They'd been fighting for so long - indeed, fifteen years - that it always just seemed that that was the way things were meant to be; he'd never bothered to stop and wonder if maybe they weren't actually incompatible, like two magnets repelling each other, not meant to ever line up. For no reason Zell could define, the idea depressed him.

"Stop calling me that," he grumbled, his automated response to the nickname, although just the fact that Seifer was using it again signified that his mood was lifting, which in turn put Zell a bit more at ease. Whatever else, things were always easier when Seifer was in a good mood.

"I will when you stop being a jackass," Seifer said.

"You're the one being a jackass, you jackass!"

"Oh, dear me," came a sultry voice from in front, and Seifer and Zell both looked up. "Is that the bitter sound of dissension I hear from the ranks?"

"Gentlemen," the general approached, smiling congenially, and stood by them with military stiffness, his hand on the back of a pale, petite woman in a glimmering yellow gown. "I do believe my wife has been anxious to meet you both."

"And I must say, boys, I'm very disappointed in you," Dallia added with a sweet, thin-lipped smile, casting wide brown eyes first over Zell and then Seifer, on whom her gaze lingered thoughtfully for a few seconds. "You missed my big, flashy entrance..."


	12. Chapter 12

"Wakey, wakey, sunshine," someone was humming in an obnoxious sing-song voice, and Seifer had a niggling hunch that it was Zell, just before a glaring shaft of sunlight fell directly on his face through the window that Zell had just flung open. Seifer sat up slowly, groaning as seemingly every muscle in his back protested the movement.

"I will bloody hurt whoever put this piece of shit sofa in a single room and decided to call it a suite," he growled, leaning out of the direct sunlight and watching as Zell flitted cheerfully around the room, pulling all the curtains.

He turned, smiling deviously. "Had a good sleep?"

"I've slept better on a bed of rocks, thanks," Seifer said, rubbing the back of his sore neck. Zell only smiled wider. "What time is it?"

"Nearly ten," the other man answered happily.

"What the fuck are you waking me up at this hour for?"

"What, you were planning on sleeping all day?"

"No," Seifer said, heaving an irritated sigh. "I was planning on sleeping until I felt like getting up. Thanks to you, I'll never know when that really was."

"Well I had a wonderful night, thanks for asking," was Zell's reply as he folded back the sheets on his bed, looking so smug that Seifer would have gotten up and slapped him in the face if he didn't think it would make the enormous ache encompassing his entire body even worse. "Except for all that creaking," he added, smirking. "I think you've got a squeaky spring. Kept me up."

"I could fucking well kill you in your peaceful, cushy sleep," Seifer snarled. Zell glanced over with a skeptical expression, and Seifer grinned. "Or... other things."

"Oi, none of that," Zell barked, his eyes narrowed threateningly. "You even try it and you'll lose any bits you try to put near me."

"Yes, I'll keep that in mind when I suddenly decide I'd like to become a eunuch," Seifer answered, and he tottered off the edge of the flimsy sofa mattress, stretching sore muscles, and spent a few moments enjoying watching Zell roll that statement through his brain before the martial artist grasped upon the meaning of it and grimaced.

"Eurgh... that's _so_ not even what I... but... uuuurgh," he said with a shudder. Seifer smiled to himself, wandering toward the kitchenette; he hadn't even been up three minutes and he'd already managed to put Zell on his guard. Today might just be a good day after all, despite the less-than-stellar night preceding.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked as he came back, watching as Zell smoothed out the covers of his very neatly-made bed and arranged the pillows in an orderly line at the headboard. "There are people that get paid to do that, you know. They're called maids."

"Just a habit," Zell said defensively, giving Seifer a dirty look. "Are you always this pleasant in the morning, or am I getting special treatment?"

"Get used to it, princess," the gunblader snarled back, sipping from a glass of water and flexing his shoulders as he shuffled back to the bed and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress. He tempered down the urge to grin as he caught Zell staring for a lingering moment out of the corner of his eye; clearly, his decision to sleep shirtless was a wise one. He had, in fact, caught Zell staring a number of times just since they'd arrived yesterday, but he wasn't going to call him out on it all the time - that would just scare the other man away, when it was more along the lines of Seifer's plan to get Zell to let his guard down more often, a task which was not going to be particularly easy considering their history. Not that Seifer was making it easier on himself, either, with the frequent sexual innuendoes and sudden, inexplicable bursts of jealousy.

At least, that's what he was trying to convince himself was the cause of his strange mood swing last night, because he really couldn't think of an alternative explanation for it, except perhaps that he was going slightly mad, and that wasn't a pleasant notion. Why he should be jealous of Irvine was beyond him; he and Zell had been friends practically forever, so it wasn't like their buddy-buddy behavior was anything new. In fact, Seifer had never really at all been one for jealousy, and certainly not to the point of being so openly distressed about it - and not only that, but the tense, restless feeling had lasted for a disturbingly long time, including through their brief conversation with General Caraway and his wife, which he hoped desperately that neither of them had noticed; his pride at being a very cool, composed operative on the job aside, he didn't want Zell to notice anything weird was up, and thankfully the other man didn't seem to have. Seifer had been on edge until they finally left the party some hours later, and he'd been too preoccupied trying to appear calmer than he felt to bother worrying much about why he was suddenly, unaccountably less in control of his emotions than he normally was.

"What've we got on for today?" he asked Zell next, wrestling the pull-out back into the sofa with some effort, and haphazardly tossing the cushions back onto it. Zell, sitting on the edge of his bed and shimmying his feet into his trainers, looked up, frowning slightly.

"Nothing. Luncheon tomorrow, though," he said, as though Seifer should have known that.

"Then where are you going?"

Zell gave him a very flat, closed look. "Out," was all he said, snatching up a black jacket from the floor near his bed and heading for the door. He exited without another word, leaving Seifer alone to muse over the instructor's quick departure - cheery though he might have been, he was clearly not eager to spend any more time alone with Seifer than he had to to get their job done, although Seifer had suspected that would be the case. Still, it was a little galling.

He went over to Zell's bed and flopped down on the prim, neatly-made covers - heavenly compared to the shapeless, soggy mattress he'd spent most of the night trying to sleep on. It didn't compare to his bed back at Garden, sure, but for a cheap hotel it was still pretty flash. One way or another, Seifer was going to have that bed - and whether or not Zell decided to join him in it remained to be seen. He gave a quiet sigh, closing his eyes to the warm sunlight falling through the window onto the bed.

Zell, it seemed, was determined to keep as far away from Seifer as he could, which might have been a good plan if it wasn't so terribly obvious that's what he was doing. Leaving early in the morning, presumably to stay out all day unless they were to be otherwise engaged - _well, the chicken never was long on brains,_ Seifer thought to himself. He'd barely spoken two words to Seifer for the duration of the party last night, clearly still angry about the lovely bite mark Seifer had left on his neck (though personally he thought it became Zell rather well; he'd like to see the other man a bit more decorated, but that was thinking a little too much ahead for now,) although he'd conversed extensively with others, including Dallia Caraway, with whom he evidently got along famously, which for some reason annoyed Seifer. The two of them had taken no time at all to become best friends, chatting happily away while Seifer stood awkwardly to the side like some mute third wheel, his disposition not at all helped by the strange, uneasy feeling that plagued him throughout the night.

That was the other thing that was bothering him - Seifer was usually pretty good at reading people, but he couldn't seem to get a bead on Dallia; something about her, they way she'd looked at him, like she _knew_ him, troubled him. Though he'd felt it too, a familiarity, almost as though they had known each other once and he'd lost the memory - not that it would surprise him if something like that _had_ happened; he'd lost more than a few memories in recent years. It was only a brief couple of seconds that her gaze had held on to him, but it clung to his thoughts, niggling, all the same.

He had to admit that she wasn't at all what he had expected, although it was true that she had, as Caraway had put it, a way about her - she'd certainly managed to charm Zell quickly enough, even if Zell wasn't exactly a paragon of astuteness. She was petite, fair-skinned and dark-haired - Trabian, Seifer had been given to believe, though she'd spent much of her life in Esthar, until marrying some months earlier. But she was definitely not the princess he and Zell had been led to believe from Squall's - and, honestly, the General's as well - description of her. Though she was approximately ten years Caraway's junior, she was not young; and uncommonly pretty, but not stunning. But there _was_ something about her - something very charming, despite the strange, troubled feeling Seifer'd had. Something that a weaker mind than his own - Zell's, for example - could easily fall prey to and become captivated by. But Seifer couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, which was perhaps what had made him so uneasy.

He _had_, however, seemed to be the only one with such a feeling; after their very brief introduction, he'd watched her make her way all around the room, effortlessly enchanting everyone she engaged with. He'd definitely have to keep an eye on Dallia Caraway, and not just in the way he was being paid to do.

Now, keeping an eye on Zell... that was an entirely different dilemma, and Seifer wasn't sure just how he was going to proceed on that front. He was _going_ to have Zell before this trip was over, he'd decided, one way or another. The problem was, he didn't really have a plan - Seifer was never much good at sticking to plans; sure, they sounded good at first, but they got boring so quickly - he was mostly trusting to luck and relying on the fact that Zell was already predisposed toward wanting him to help his cause. However, the martial artist did seem to be under the impression that Seifer was only finding the whole situation as a joke; that is, he didn't appear to have realized that Seifer was, well, not entirely disinclined toward an attraction (was, in fact, rather strongly inclined toward one,) a problem which would have to be dealt with, because Zell was almost certainly not going to let his guard down if he thought Seifer was only going to deride him for it.

But after a great deal of thinking on it, Seifer found himself thinking that, despite the increasing number of roadblocks that kept cropping up in his path to seducing Zell, playing it by ear was still going to be his best bet. It was what he was best at, after all. And he had nearly a full month yet to work his magic. He grinned at the very thought of it, settling back into the warm, comfy mattress. He just had to keep that end goal in mind.

* * *

It was already after dark when Zell finally returned, and his expression was stormy as soon as he walked through the door. "What are you doing in my bed, Almasy?" he growled, shutting the door behind him and kicking off his shoes.

Seifer grinned, taking a swig from the beer in his hand. "Very comfy, isn't it? I can see why you wouldn't want to give it up," he remarked, flipping channels with the remote he held in his other hand. Zell glowered. Seifer added curiously, "where have you been all day?"

"It's none of your damn business where I've been," Zell replied, flinging his jacket onto an armchair and stomping across the room toward Seifer. He stood next to the bed with his arms folded severely across his chest, looking grim. "Have you been sitting in here watching telly all day?"

"Of course not," Seifer said, assuming an offended expression. "I had to go out to pick up the beer."

"That's nice," Zell sneered. "Can you get out of my bed now?"

"You could get into it."

"Not likely!" He tugged on the edge of the sheets, as if that would somehow make Seifer evacuate the bed. "Are you drunk?"

"Certainly not," Seifer answered, draining his beer and setting the empty bottle on the floor next to the bed. It wasn't exactly a lie - he was only a bit tipsy, and he definitely wasn't planning on getting drunk; just remembering the last time that had happened put him off it for a long, long time. Although... remembering the last time that _Zell_ had been drunk, perhaps that wasn't an idea he should discard so quickly. He grabbed two more beers from the six-pack beside the bed and offered one out to Zell. "If you're not going to join me, go somewhere else. The match is coming back on."

"I don't think so," Zell said stiffly, and he snatched the bottle from Seifer and set it down on the bedside table before continuing angrily, "now come on, get up before I get you up myself."

It took him a few seconds to realize what he'd said, and Seifer grinned widely as he went rapidly pink. "I meant... you know what I meant!" he snapped. "It came out all wrong."

"I have to disagree with you, I think it came out very well," Seifer replied, cracking open his beer and cranking the volume on the TV. He saw Zell's eyes flit toward the screen for a second, and his half-angry, half-embarrassed expression softened.

"I didn't know there was a fight on tonight," he said after a hesitant moment. "Who's on?"

"It's Leiden at Figaro," Seifer answered. Zell's eyes were fixed to the TV now with only an occasional glance directed Seifer's way, and he was biting the corner of his lip, looking wary. Seifer shifted over to one side of the bed to make room for the other man, who despite clearly mistrusting Seifer's motives looked as though he was very much willing to risk whatever consequences might come of breaking the five-foot-rule that he had self-imposed in order to watch the match. Seifer found he was a little surprised at it himself, and he remarked, "you actually follow this? It's not, like, an insult to your art or something?"

"No, it is," Zell said, and after a last quick moment of contemplation seemed to come to a decision, and he sat on the edge of the bed, grinning slightly. "I mean, I don't watch it all the time. But I like that Figaro kid. He's got potential." He turned to Seifer with a sheepish smile, shrugging casually. "I like to keep track of who's got talent. Most of these guys are just brutes."

"Hmm," was all Seifer said. Zell retrieved the beer from the side table and opened it with a deft twist of his wrist, leaning forward as he focused on the TV. Truth to tell, Seifer wasn't all that interested in boxing, but there wasn't much on else - and in any case, he was at least glad his hunch that Zell _would_ be interested in such things had panned out. Seifer didn't know much about the finer details of martial arts, but it was clear even to him that the goons on TV weren't exactly shining examples of pugilistic skill; and he had therefore worried that Zell probably wouldn't care much for it, but it was refreshing to be proven wrong once in a while.

It wasn't long before Zell was on his second beer and totally into the match; he sat forward, perched at the end of the bed, alternately cheering and cursing at the TV screen, shouting advice which the fighters, of course, would never hear. Whether or not the advice was justified, Seifer had no way of knowing, as he was watching Zell's antics more than he was watching the match, and marveling at the fact that he was finding it_cute_ - something about that just seemed like it should be wrong. After twenty-odd years of Zell being, at the very least, a perpetual nuisance to Seifer, the less-than-annoyed feelings Seifer was lately having toward him ought to have been more, well, _unnatural_, but they were perfectly the opposite.

"Get - get him, you-" Zell muttered, gesticulating wildly at the screen with tightly-clenched fists, as though he were about to start throwing punches himself. "His left side is completely open, you big ox! Get him!"

Seifer snickered, but luckily it went unheard by Zell, who was rummaging in the grocery bags at the foot of the bed for more beer. It was amazing - almost unbelievable - how quickly the other man had forgotten his anger, his aversion to being anywhere near Seifer, and the fact that Seifer was even _there_, when presented with a fight and beer. He'd have to remember that one; he'd found precious few openings so far in the constant and solid wall Zell was determined to keep up at all times - at least, ones that didn't end with him getting socked in the face... or worse.

Now, how to build on this small victory? Getting Zell drunk and having his way with him was always a choice option, but after a moment's contemplation, Seifer decided he'd rather save that plan for a later time; aside from the fact that he would certainly only have one shot at such a thing - considering what had happened the last time Zell was drunk around Seifer, he was surprised that the other man was risking drinking at all, to be honest - it just wouldn't be as much of a triumph as getting Zell to come to _him_, which he was pretty sure he could pull off if he handled this the right way. To get Zell to admit to wanting him - now _that_ was a victory. A bit chancy, maybe; Zell probably wouldn't call Seifer's bluff, but he wasn't sure exactly how strong the martial artist's self-control could be; there was the likelihood that Zell could outlast him in a game of willpower, and that wasn't a pleasant prospect. Seifer would be walking a fine line between playing indifference and seduction. Then again, he was good at bluffing.

But for tonight? He sipped his beer, thinking on it for a while. He supposed he could let Zell off easy for once - might help to get Zell to trust him a bit, if anything. He watched a bit more of the match (or rather, watched Zell, who was now kicking and punching on his own as he murmured testily at Figaro, who was getting spectacularly beaten, between drinks of beer, watching the match,) and at length he quietly got up and went to his couch, and had long since been feigning sleep by the time Zell noticed that he'd gone. He looked positively befuddled at this, and Seifer was hard put not to grin at the dumbfounded expression on Zell's face as he turned off the TV and cleared the beer bottles off the bed. It was worth going easy on him just for that expression - he clearly couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Seifer would simply go to bed peacefully after getting so close to him. Zell's reactions when he was angry were adorable, amusing, but too easy; surprising Zell by _not_ making him angry was a bit more of a challenge, and one Seifer felt he could rise to magnificently. Who knew the chicken would be so fun to play with?

* * *

He woke up in a fairly better mood than they day before, despite the miserable night's sleep he'd gotten courtesy of that godforsaken couch (and only day two of twenty-eight; maybe he _would_ start taking up the floor,) and in mutual silence he and Zell got up and dressed for the banquet. Zell was chipper and energetic as always, but Seifer didn't find he was particularly looking forward to the luncheon - in the itinerary it was detailed as a formal party with representative guests from each Garden attending, which meant a few hours of mingling with a lot of people Seifer didn't like, but there was no getting around that. The upside was, everyone who was going to be there already knew he was likely to be anti-social, so he wouldn't have to play nice with any of them - a small mercy. There wasn't much else in the event to look forward too.

Indeed, when they arrived just after noon, it appeared as though someone had consulted a list of People Seifer Most Disliked Spending Time With when sending out the invitations. Cid and Edea Kramer were among the first of the other guests that Seifer recognized, and two of those which he most wanted to avoid if he could; he and Cid hadn't been on good terms since Seifer's trial, where Cid had been one of many testifying against him, and Seifer's relationship with Edea was, to put it very lightly, strained. Of course there were extenuating circumstances, not least being possessed by a demented megalomaniac sorceress from the future, but it was still hard to be friendly with someone who'd seduced, brainwashed, and debased him, and finally threw him aside when he ceased to be useful. No matter how little she'd been in control of her actions at the time, as long as Edea's face continued to be the one he saw in his nightmares, he couldn't see any sort of intimacy happening.

She and Cid were presumably there to represent Balamb Garden as owner and proprietor and headmaster, respectively - Seifer recollected instances in the past of Cid filling in for Squall at state events when the brunette didn't feel like or wasn't able to attend himself. He supposed he and Zell were the SeeD representatives, then; that seemed to be the trend, anyway, as he looked around at the other guests - there were two SeeDs and two administrative reps from each Garden. Selphie and an equally ditzy- and annoying-looking redheaded girl were there from Trabia, accompanied by a middle-aged woman and a very old man, neither of whom Seifer recognized or cared much about. Irvine, as well, had shown up to represent Galbadia -_not surprising_, Seifer thought grouchily to himself, _he always manages to show up when I least want to see him_ - and was being followed around by two pretty, vapid-looking girls in SeeD dress, all three of them vacuously unaware of the stern, disapproving stares the third lady of their group, who was giving off some very Quistis-like vibes, was sending their way.

The four other party guests Seifer had to think for a few minutes before he could place, until it occurred to him that they were from Edea's White SeeD ship. He'd only ever heard of it; and they weren't an official Garden, so he wouldn't have expected to see anyone from the ship here. He didn't know much about the White SeeDs in any case; nor did anyone, really, except for that they were something like Edea's pet project over the past few years; they were unconnected with any of the established Gardens, but the students underwent the same training to become SeeDs and even had their own version of a field exam to attain rank. The group's purpose since the end of the war wasn't known, and Seifer had figured, as most people had, that it had dispersed, but clearly Edea was still nursing her little private mercenary orphanage. Thinking more on it, Seifer wasn't that surprised; she had withdrawn considerably from the public view for some time after the war, as likely to give Garden some relief from a connection with the sorceress as to distance herself from the institution which had tried, quite hard, to exterminate her. She'd have needed some kind of project, and her special pet SeeDs would have provided the perfect outlet for it.

She was standing with them, some ways apart from the rest of the group, their pale uniforms standing out sharply against everyone else's black. Zell had gone immediately upon entering to hang out with Irvine, and the two of them and Selphie were all chatting amicably in a tightly-packed cluster, which annoyed Seifer - not that he particularly wanted to be included in their group (he'd cut his tongue out before voluntarily entering into conversation with Irvine and Selphie,) but seeing the three of them all chummy irritated him nonetheless. No one else seemed interested in talking to him, so he stood off in the corner by himself for a while, watching the proceedings. Dallia Caraway, naturally, was nowhere to be seen.

_She really does think we're playthings,_ he thought testily to himself. How else did she get off calling all the heads of the Gardens here for some silly party, and not even showing up herself? Though he found he wasn't really looking forward to meeting with her again - he felt anxious at the thought of it. It was odd, and unsettling - why was he so... well, _afraid_ wasn't the word; it was more like apprehensive, and the fact that there was no discernible reason for him to be so just made him fret more.

He tried to put it out of mind by thinking on another subject, though that didn't do him much good as he ended up with his eyes on Zell again, scowling as he and Irvine kept putting their heads together and whispering conspiratorially, causing Selphie to shriek as she demanded to be let in on the secret. This was absolutely ridiculous - jealousy was not a frequent trait of his, wasn't even an infrequent one; then why was the sight of Zell and Irvine together so absolutely infuriating?

He was rent quite sharply from his thoughts by Edea's approach, and he tried pull a straight face, hoping he wasn't showing too much of what he was thinking in his expression; if there was anyone he really didn't need knowing about what he was feeling toward Zell at that particular moment, it was her. She stood by him, and for a minute didn't say anything, looking as though she didn't know quite how to begin. In fact, she looked just as uneasy as Seifer felt himself, but whether that was specifically because of whatever she wanted to say to him, or just from being here, surrounded by so many people who had reason to hate her, he didn't know. She played nervously with the ends of her hair, which fell over her shoulder in a long plait. "It's nice to see you again, Seifer," she said at length, her voice quiet and not imbued with that playful cheeriness that Seifer sometimes remembered in short flashes of his childhood. "I didn't expect I'd see you here."

He nodded, but didn't speak. She went on, after an awkward moment, "They didn't tell us who the SeeD representatives from Balamb would be, you see. Though I'm a bit surprised to see you and Zell as a pair. I wouldn't have expected either of you."

He suspected she hadn't come over just for the purpose of making smalltalk, but it didn't seem she was going to give it up just yet, so he replied, "who would you have expected, then?"

She paused for a second to think, and then said, "Hmm... Quistis and Xu, perhaps? I'm not sure what this," she lifted a hand to indicate the whole room, "is all about, so I guess I can't really say. Have you any idea what it's about?"

He shook his head, and she gave a small sigh. "Are you two able to get along now, then?" she asked after a prolonged silence, indicating Zell and him, and smiling hesitantly. "You always were the worst pair when you were young. I could never leave you two alone together."

"We get on alright, I guess," he answered with a shrug, which was somewhat true - there were times that they got on, though Seifer spent most of his time actively trying to prevent it from happening. But Edea didn't need to know that, and he didn't especially want to talk about it, least of all with her. Nor did he want to hear fond stories about how precious and darling he was when he was little, and thankfully, she didn't pursue that topic of conversation.

"I'm sorry," she said next, giving a sad little smile and looking the other way. "There was something I wanted to say to you, but you're clearly uncomfortable. I thought that maybe - but never mind," she ended abruptly, shaking her head slowly.

"Look," Seifer began, but was lost after that. She held up a hand to stop him.

"No. Another time will be better," she said firmly, looking up at him, but Seifer found he still couldn't meet her eyes. Five years, and he still couldn't fucking do it. "It really is nice to see you. You seem to be happy, and I'm glad to see it."

"Is that so?" he muttered lowly, though not loud enough for her to hear as she walked away. Was he happy? The unease caused by her comment bothered him less than the fact that he couldn't immediately answer himself as to whether the comment was accurate or not. A few months ago the answer would have been a flat "no", no question, but lately... Well, hadn't even Fuu commented on his uncharacteristic cheerfulness not too long ago? And he _had_ been rather eagerly anticipating this trip with Zell (albeit for scheming reasons,) and even now thinking on all the different ways he was going to have fun with Zell over the next few weeks brought a smirk to his face. So, okay, he wasn't exactly in love with life, but Seifer figured he was probably more content with it than he'd been in a long time - and that really was saying something, considering some of what he'd been through in the past five years.

"If you don't mind _me_ saying, you don't look particularly happy at the moment," said a low, honeyed voice just behind him, and he jerked around, more startled than was probably necessary. Dallia gave a chirpy laugh at his reaction, holding a slight, delicate hand in front of her mouth demurely. How in the hell did she get behind him? Tittering, she added, "oh, please don't be angry. I didn't intend to frighten you."

Seifer didn't reply, unsure of how to - to accuse her of eavesdropping on his conversation with Edea would be both childish and too rude; pardoning her for it felt like a surrender. She smiled up at him with wide eyes and went on in a distinctly teasing tone, "I'm sorry, it's just that I can never pass up the opportunity of sneaking up on people. It's terrific fun. But really, I do apologize."

"Don't worry about it," Seifer managed after a moment, feeling stiff next to her. She didn't leave, however, but moved around to stand next to him, looking out at the room and her party guests, who hadn't yet noted her arrival.

"You don't seem to be having much fun," she remarked with a strange, mysterious sort of smile that Seifer didn't suppose he was meant to understand.

"I'm here to work, not to have fun," he answered after another moment's hesitation, which eked a frown out of Dallia, though her eyes were still smiling as she replied.

"Your partner-" she paused for a barely-detectable instant, her gaze flitting toward Zell, who was now having a highly animated conversation with Selphie and the other Trabian SeeD, "-is rather enjoying himself, isn't he?"

"He always is," Seifer said, trying to keep the sarcasm in his voice to a bare minimum - to no avail, evidently, as her smirk returned.

"Oh, I see," she declared, as though she had just hit upon a revolutionary thought. "Then you're only here to keep his devil-may-care free spirit in check, and therefore you can't possibly let yourself have any amount of fun, is that right?"

Seifer didn't answer that, mostly because he wasn't sure how to without sounding surly. Though it was difficult to converse civilly with Dallia at all, as he had a distinct feeling that she was making fun of him in some way he couldn't quite understand - as though she were laughing at some private joke that he should have known, but didn't. She waited for a moment or two before accepting that he wasn't going to reply, and then she went on in a different vein, "we didn't get a chance to talk much the other night, did we?"

As Seifer recalled, they hadn't talked at all, but he didn't say that; he merely gave a noncommittal shake of the head, and Dallia responded with a wry chuckle. "You don't like me much at all, do you?" she asked, sounding nothing but amused as she tossed out that loaded question. Seifer tried not to sigh as he pondered his answer, although he wasn't entirely surprised that she'd picked up on it; something about her came off as very shrewd to him, and it wasn't exactly as if he was doing much to be friendly to her. He was, in fact, doing his best merely to stick to professionalism, though when Dallia was around even _that_ felt like a stretch. Having had the chance now to talk to the woman didn't ease his inexplicable dislike of her; it had rather amplified it, despite there being, as far as he could tell himself, no basis for the feeling.

"A job is a job," he finally said, trying to appear disaffected. "My personal feelings aren't relevant."

She laughed loudly, attracting the attention of several people nearby, and then she turned to face him, smiling cheerfully. "That's a very good answer. A very _diplomatic_ answer," she amended, acknowledging his skills in tact with a small sort of curtsey. "But," she added next with a knowing grin, "not a _straight_ answer. But it doesn't matter. I'll get it out of you later," she promised with a wink, touching his arm, and Seifer was overcome suddenly by a strong wave of repulsion and he had to fight the urge to yank his arm away for the long couple of seconds her hand remained there. Then, without a further word, she turned and sashayed away, her pink pleated skirt swishing around her knees as she approached Cid Kramer and two of the White SeeD members nearby, without a moment's pause entering into spirited conversation with them. She was cheerful and vibrant and just the slightest bit teasing - and infuriating, Seifer couldn't help thinking to himself, feeling marginally calmer now that Dallia's presence had been removed from his immediate vicinity. There was definitely something not quite right with her - and though he spent the next ten minutes in silent contemplation trying to figure it out, he just couldn't place _what_.

She fluttered about the room, moving with assertive fluidity from one group of people to the next and chatting easily with everyone - charming everyone, just as she had so effortlessly at the ball. Seifer hadn't been far wrong when he wondered if he was the only one who wasn't charmed by her; but he couldn't help feeling that she was exactly the type of person he would get along with immensely well, if it weren't for... well, that's what he couldn't quite put his finger on; just _what_ it was about her that repelled him. He'd figure it out eventually, but for now it niggled at the back of his mind like an itch, frustrating him. More likely than not it was something as stupid as her reminding him of a bad ex-girlfriend or something like that (he hoped she wasn't an ex-girlfriend herself; but he sincerely doubted he'd have forgotten someone like Dallia, even if he had forgotten quite a few things in recent years,) which lined up with the odd vibe of familiarity he was getting off her. What _didn't_ line up was the way she looked at him - as though the two of them were supposed to be in on some kind of secret together, only he couldn't remember it.

Well, whatever it was, it wasn't worth getting worked up over while she was around and causing trouble for himself. She'd already - though admittedly it wouldn't have taken much work - deduced that Seifer didn't like her, not that he thought she'd hold it against him or anything; her attitude gave every indication that she found the situation amusing. What Seifer wanted to avoid was encouraging her to pry, and possibly end up asking questions that he couldn't even answer for himself, and if he couldn't keep his emotions better under control when she was around, she was going to eventually seriously wonder why. A thought occurred to him, and he grinned at the irony of it; around Zell, he could do nothing but put up a front, while whenever Dallia was nearby he couldn't keep one up if his life depended on it. If Seifer hadn't been so pissed off at himself for not being able to keep his cool better, it might have been almost funny.

He looked up to see Zell and Selphie, clutching the martial artist's arm and dragging him behind her, making a beeline for Seifer's corner; Seifer quickly looked around for an escape route, and was able to duck through a side door nearby before the pair reached him, hoping desperately that they wouldn't follow - he wouldn't put it past the girl if she was really determined to catch him. He'd managed to see remarkably little of her since the end of the war and her return to Trabia, which was about as good as Seifer figured it could get. He emerged in a narrow staff hallway that led down to the kitchens, the small space rank with humidity and the cloying smell of stale dishwater - and it was still less stifling than the party he'd just exited. No one would miss him if he stepped outside for five minutes to get some air - Hyne knew if he had to go back in there and force smalltalk with any of Zell's harebrained friends, he was going to hurt someone.

He slipped quietly down the hallway and past the kitchens, and out the back door.

* * *

"Where the hell've you been?" Zell asked in a sharp whisper when Seifer returned to the banquet hall, just as everyone was sitting down at the long table in the center of the room. He took his place next to Zell, thankfully at the opposite end of the table from where Dallia Caraway was sitting, telling what appeared to be an animated story to Irvine and the square-jawed instructor who was beside him. "You can't just take off like that in the middle of a party!"

Zell looked more than a little peeved, though Seifer suspected that it was less because he'd shunned etiquette and snuck outside for a cigarette than because Zell had been the one left behind to endure Selphie's wrath regarding such a brazen insult as his running away from her. She was shooting little murderous glares his way from across the table and a few chairs down. Rolling his eyes, Seifer replied, "don't worry about it. It's none of your business."

"It is when we're on the job, you-" Zell began in a hiss, breaking off and adopting a sedate expression as Cid Kramer took the empty seat on Seifer's other side, his wife next to him and not sparing a glance Seifer's way.

"I seen you talking to Matron earlier," Zell said next quietly, the remark half a question, but Seifer wasn't going to deign to address it.

"So what?"

"Surprised me, is all," the other man replied, shrugging a bit. "I didn't think you two were on speaking terms."

"We're not," Seifer responded shortly, hoping that would be enough to put Zell off the subject; but it seemed only to encourage him further on the subject, and for once Seifer found himself grateful for Dallia's impeccable timing as she stood at her end of the table, clinking her fork against a glass to draw everyone's attention, just as Zell was about to speak. Everyone turned toward her, and she gave a sunny smile and made another strange sort of half-curtsey - _maybe it's a Trabian thing,_ Seifer thought wonderingly to himself - before addressing the room.

"Thank you all for coming!" she began with a trilling laugh, beaming at them all. "I'm really very glad everyone could make it. Especially those of you notoriously anti-social-" Seifer tried to pretend he didn't notice she was looking straight at him as she said it, "-but anyway. There's something I'd seriously like to talk about..."

"Look, you weren't to know she'd be here," Zell said in a low tone, leaning sideways toward Seifer to be as quiet as possible - a feat for the martial artist, who typically worked to be the loudest person at any given gathering. "But you can't go disappearing when we're working, here. Dallia noticed you gone, you know."

"That so?" Seifer murmured, thinking fast to try and find a way to end the conversation - now was not the time or place to be having a heart-to-heart with Zell (not that he would prefer to do such a thing at any place or at any time.) "_You_ lecturing _me_, now?"

"Lecture where lecture's due," Zell snapped back cheekily. "I don't wanna take sides or anything, but you gotta get over this unsociable shit. At least while we're out here."

"Gee, I'm sorry I haven't enough empty space in my brain to be friends with everyone, like you," Seifer snarled, a bit too loudly - the stern-faced White SeeD across the table shot a reprimanding glare his way, which Seifer pointedly ignored.

Zell was giving him a decidedly frosty stare now, and Seifer couldn't help but think that seriousness became him really rather well - or maybe it was just because it was such an uncommon expression on him that it seemed so. He must have learned that stare from Quistis; he had just that right narrowing of the eyes, that disdainful downward glance, the slightest furrowing of the eyebrows. Far from being intimidated, however, Seifer found it unexpectedly appealing, though when he asked himself the reason, he couldn't quite name it.

"It ain't about being friends with everyone," Zell said in a soft but deadly voice. "It's about doing your damn job properly."

Seifer was too taken aback by the comment to say anything for a few moments, but before he had collected his thoughts enough to form a reply that didn't involve slapping Zell upside his head - where _did_ he get off? - there was a commotion at the other end of the table that caught both of their attentions; Trabia Garden's headmaster, a few seats down from Seifer, had got to his feet, and was staring Dallia Caraway down with disgruntled intent, though to her credit she looked entirely unfazed.

Zell was instantly alert; Seifer could see the line of tension running through his stature as he sat forward on his chair, ready to jump up at any moment should it be necessary. Seifer thought back a minute, and tried to remember what Dallia had been talking about, but it beat him. "Absolutely not," the old man said, anger evident. "We will not allow such a thing!"

"Please, do sit down, Mr. Filmore," Dallia suggested sweetly, laying her hand gently on his arm; but he remained standing, and after a moment more, she went on, addressing the rest of the table, "I didn't mean to upset anybody; it was only a proposal. I'd like to have the opinions of _all_ the heads of Gardens on the matter."

"Galbadia already has a Garden," Filmore said gruffly. "What do you need to build another one for?"

Dallia continued to smile, not appearing a bit off-put by the old man's vehement protestation, and in fact looking rather serene and cheery, despite the fact that not one of the guests seemed to be at all pleased with her statement. The Trabian Headmaster was furious, and Seifer looked surreptitiously round at the others to gauge their reactions; Irvine and his austere companion both looked grave, and he appeared to be thinking quickly, sitting forward in his seat; the White SeeDs all looked outraged, and were deferring to Edea, who, Seifer noted with a glance, looked rather ill.

"There would be no reason to install another Garden in Galbadia," Dallia said calmly, her tone light and casual, though Seifer somehow felt that there was something menacing in the way she said it. "The Garden we have is perfectly adequate."

"Excuse me," Irvine interjected, only the slightest hint of amusement in his voice, though his expression was serious. "I take offense to that."

"Beg pardon," Dallia amended with a saccharine smile. "Galbadia Garden is, of course, _more_ than adequate; to build another Garden here would be a tremendous waste of resources, time, and money. I, however, am not planning to remain in Galbadia for long; next month I will return to Esthar. It is there, Mr. Filmore," she cooed, her smile not for an instant faltering, her dark eyes sharp and twinkling with cunning, "ladies and gentlemen, that I intend to build my Garden."


	13. Chapter 13

The room went deadly quiet; no one seemed to be able to think of anything to say. For a veritable eternity of a minute, everyone was silent, staring at Dallia as though no one wanted to be the first to tell her she was mad. She looked completely untroubled by the consternation she had caused with that simple declaration - maybe she _was_ a bit off in the head; who would ever think that building a Garden in Esthar was a good idea, anyway? And who would expect anyone else to _let_ them do it? Though something about her easy manner and her small, calm smile made Zell think that even if her proposal met with a flat refusal from every quarter, she still planned to do whatever she pleased. He watched and waited nervously, keeping an eye particularly on the Trabian headmaster; he looked like he was about to blow.

"What a ridiculous idea," the lady next to him, who had gone rather white and was giving a tight, tense smile, said in a faltering voice, as if she half-suspected that Dallia had been joking. "An Estharian Garden? Why?"

"Why not?" Dallia replied, raspberry lips curled in a perpetual grin. She paused, apparently waiting for someone to supply her an answer, and at length looked all round the table, as though challenging someone to provide a reason.

"Esthar doesn't need a Garden, for one," Irvine said at last with a faint undertone of disdain to his voice, as though he disliked stating the obvious.

"No? But the Gardens are, by their definition, facilities where youths are trained to deal with the threat of sorceresses," she said matter-of-factly, looking daringly down at the redhead, who stared placidly back. "And Esthar seems to be where they're always cropping up - it seems to me to be the perfect place to train soldiers for just that purpose."

"Esthar already has squads in place to deal with any kind of sorceress-related event - and their own programs to train them. In that regard, they're far superior to any of the Gardens; they've been handling sorceresses for far longer," Irvine explained, sitting back in his chair and looking a good deal calmer than anyone else at the table. Zell was impressed in spite of himself; there had always been a part of him that wondered at Irvine's getting appointed Headmaster of Galbadia Garden, but it was clear he knew his stuff, even if his image gave rather a different impression. "Furthermore," Irvine went on pragmatically, "while Garden's _avowed_ purpose is, yes, to provide a solution to the threat of sorceresses, the Gardens - all three of them - are undeniably better utilized as mercenary services, the way they have been for eighteen years. Esthar is already without competition the largest military power in the world. To establish such an openly military organization there will send entirely the wrong message to the rest of the world, most of whom are still very afraid of Esthar's power."

"Someone has done his homework," Dallia acquiesced, tilting her head with a hint of approval in her face, "but I have another opinion... if you'd like to hear it?"

"As if anyone'd say no," Seifer murmured, as if to himself, startling Zell, who'd been engrossed in the interaction taking place down the table. He gave Seifer a sharp kick under the table, but the other man didn't even look round - didn't seem to notice at all, in fact; he was staring rather intently, not at Dallia, who held the attention of everyone else in the room, but at Edea, whose expression was dark and pensive. Everyone in the room looked distinctly unhappy at the moment - except the hostess herself, naturally - but Edea looked downright angry; and she certainly had right to be, Zell thought to himself. Aside from the fact that there was no logical reason to build another Garden at all, regardless of who might carry out the actual administration, it seemed hugely insulting to Edea and Cid for Dallia to have even suggested it. What was she thinking?

"Esthar does indeed have a very strong influence right now - militarily and technologically," she explained on, still smiling but more seriously now. "It's only been a very short time since the city, and its people, have been responsive to the idea of opening up to the rest of the world, and the rest of the world is likewise very slow to trust."

Dallia had been standing the whole time, and now she pushed her chair back and began to walk slowly around the table, her face alight with enthusiasm as she spoke. "I think, ladies and gentlemen," she said, her tone soft but eager, "that a Garden would be the perfect thing to show the people of the world that Esthar is willing to move on - to put aside its secluded past and work _with_ other countries, not against them. That we don't think ourselves above others, that we're willing to conform, to adapt to the future."

She had walked full circle around the table, and now stood at the head again, looking round at the other guests to see their reactions. No one spoke for a few tense moments; Zell couldn't decide if it was because they thought she was batshit insane, or because they couldn't come up with anything to counter her arguments - which were, admittedly, not all that bad. After it was clear that no one was going to give her an answer, Dallia went on, "Esthar is my home, and I want to see it prosper. A Garden would bring in a new generation of youths to the city, and at the same time promote the idea that the city is open to change, not adamant about going its own way. It would give Esthar a connection to the rest of the world. What do you think of that?"

Zell personally didn't think it sounded too bad, but he certainly wasn't going to be the one to say so. After a lengthy silence, Irvine was again the first one to speak up. "None of that changes the fact that there's no need for another Garden, no matter where you want to put it," he said in a quiet but dismissive tone. Dallia turned to look at him, her gaze full of challenge, but before she could reply to that, they were interrupted by the Trabian headmaster, who stood abruptly from his seat between them.

"Pardon me," he said brusquely, not particularly looking like he cared if anyone did; his face was pale, though his cheeks were flushed with anger. Zell slowly rose to his feet almost at the same time Seifer did the same, both of them ready to move in an instant, but no one else at the table took notice of them; all eyes were on Dallia.

"Mr. Fillmore," she said complacently, but he ignored her.

"I can't sit here and listen to any more of this," he said, stepping away from the table and straightening the front of his suit. "I'll be taking my leave now."

He turned and strode briskly away, and his aide scrambled out of her chair to follow him. The redheaded SeeD followed them after a moment, flashing a short, apologetic curtsey to the table before rushing off, but Selphie remained seated, leaning across the empty space toward Irvine for a terse whispered conference. Zell watched them avidly, but their expressions gave nothing away - was there something more going on here that he didn't know about? At length, Selphie also stood and followed her colleagues out, leaving behind a rather stern-looking Irvine, who appeared to be silently contemplating recent events. The table was utterly silent; Dallia, still smiling, though looking a bit put out, seemed to be collecting her thoughts as she looked round at her remaining guests.

The group of White SeeDs were the next to rise; an older boy, who seemed to be the leader of the group, said very shortly, "I believe it's time for us to leave as well." The four of them filed silently out of the room, sparing not a glance Dallia's way. Irvine watched them go with some interest, but Edea, Zell noted, hadn't looked up once throughout the entire event - she appeared to be staring down at her lap, but her gaze was focused at a distant point, her expression grave. Cid, beside her, stood and pulled her to her feet, his hand on her back.

"Well," Dallia said with a half-laugh, giving a little what-can-you-do sort of shrug, "I guess that's the end of my little party."

"Please excuse us," Cid said coolly, leading his wife away. He shot a glance backward at Zell and Seifer; Zell frowned, unsure of whether or not he should follow for appearance's sake, in the end deciding against it - they hadn't come with the couple, so it wasn't really necessary to leave with them. He looked over at Seifer for confirmation that this was okay, only to realize that Seifer wasn't paying attention at all; he was lost in thought of his own, much like Edea had been. Zell was furious - if Dallia hadn't been watching, he'd have punched Seifer right upside his stupid head. He settled with a sharp elbow to the kidney, which snapped the gunblader back into reality, just as the lady who'd come with Irvine rose, ushering her two SeeDs to their feet as well.

"Come, girls," she said sharply, before turning to Irvine, and looking surprised to see that he had not leapt to his feet as well. "Headmaster?"

He stood slowly, still looking as thoughtful as Zell had ever seen him. "Yes," he said, giving his companion a dismissive wave, "go ahead. I'll be there in just a few moments."

She frowned deeply, opening her mouth as if to argue, but thought better of it, and left quietly, the two young SeeDs in tow. Irvine, Zell, and Seifer were all that was left of the party, and Dallia had wandered away from the table, smiling disappointedly and sighing to herself from time to time. She appeared, just as Zell had imagined, not put off her idea at all, but merely regrouping - coming up with a new strategy now her initial pitch had failed... and spectacularly at that, he had to think.

"Broke up that party pretty quick, don't you think?" Seifer muttered to him, giving him a pointed stare, but not looking half as disturbed by the entire situation as Zell would have pegged him, given the uber-pensive state he'd been in just moments ago.

"I tell you what," Zell replied, watching Irvine out of the corner of his eye as the cowboy spoke with Dallia in quiet tones, "if she keeps this up, we might have a real mission on our hands - I never seen someone make so many enemies so fast. Except maybe you."

"Hm," was all Seifer said in response; a decidedly less spirited answer than Zell had been expecting. What was up with Seifer? Zell was almost on the verge of asking straight-out when Seifer spoke again, leaning toward him to say in a low voice, "is it just me, or does Kinneas know something?"

"Do you think so?" Zell murmured back, but truthfully he had been having the same thought, especially as he watched Irvine and Dallia not too far away, conversing in low tones; Irvine's back was to them, so he couldn't see his expression, but the lady was no longer smiling, her posture stiff and tense. Whatever Irvine was saying, she didn't like. Zell mentally debated going over there to see just what was going on - it would pretty much screw their cover, but it might be worth it to find out if there _was_ something else going on here that he and Seifer weren't aware of. Before he could come to a decision, however, it became unnecessary; Irvine walked away, looking smug, and Dallia came back toward them, wearing a smile that Zell had decided must be her version of a poker face - whether she was actually affected by the afternoon's events he couldn't say, but you'd never be able to tell by looking at her.

"I'd call that a fiasco, wouldn't you?" she mused with an air of express nonchalance. Zell didn't know what to say, but Seifer gave her a very sharp look, to which she responded with an equally challenging stare, as though daring him to speak what was on his mind. He didn't, and after a moment she looked away.

"I think I'd like to go home," Dallia announced next, giving a sigh as though incomparably wearied by the party and its aftermath, although she appeared as cheery as ever, Zell thought. Turning to him, she added, "and given the unpleasant atmosphere I've just created here, I think I'd prefer accompaniment... if you don't mind?"

"Uh... no, of course not..." Zell muttered, bemused - that last was clearly directed only at him. There was a tense, prolonged silence, finally broken when Seifer turned away to leave.

"Fine," he said, his tone almost petulant. "I'll see you back at the hotel, Dincht."

"Okay," Zell stammered, and Seifer stalked away before he could think of anything more to say. When he glanced over at Dallia, he was surprised to find her looking somewhat satisfied - her expression almost triumphant, as if there had been some kind of private battle going on that she had won. Seifer didn't like Dallia, that had been obvious from the beginning, but until now it hadn't appeared that she'd noticed, or cared at all if she had. Nothing, in fact, really seemed to faze her - and Zell had a sneaking suspicion that she was this time only pretending to be disconcerted, and the attempt was belated and half-assed at best. Dallia and Seifer, Dallia and Irvine... what was there that Zell wasn't seeing?

Dallia's smile twitched up at the corners as she caught him staring, and she beckoned him after her as she spun on one kitten heel and made for the door. "Perhaps there's something you'd like to ask me?" she queried in a good-humoured tone, slipping a pair of gilded sunglasses on as Zell held the door open for her and she stepped outside.

"Er..." he stammered, stepping quickly to catch up with her as she strode purposefully to the black car that was waiting out back for her. "I... I guess not..."

She smirked, giving him a long look over the top of her sunglasses, before stepping daintily down into the backseat of the car. Feeling puzzled, Zell walked round to the other side and got in as well, and wordlessly they drove off.

"Do you, uh..." he began hesitantly after thinking for a minute about the question, "do you... know Irvine very well?"

She didn't answer for a rather long moment; her sunglasses still obscuring half her face, Zell couldn't read her expression. "He is the Headmaster of Galbadia Garden. I am the First Lady of Galbadia." She paused for a short moment. "Interim, but still," she added with a little smirk. She glanced toward Zell, who wasn't sure he was really satisfied with that answer, and went on, "we've met several times at state events. We are acquainted."

Zell chewed the corner of his lip and frowned. "That ain't really the answer I was lookin' for..."

Dallia gave a twittering laugh. "You allude, I presume, to the scene you witnessed inside?" she asked, though her tone indicated that it wasn't really a question. Zell shrugged, and she continued in a tone laced with finality, "it was a personal matter, and that's as far as it concerns you. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

Zell refrained from answering, and Dallia nodded as if he had made a wise choice. They rode together in silence for a few more minutes before she spoke again. "Your partner dislikes me very much," she remarked.

"Well..." Zell paused for a second to work out his phrasing in his head, and eventually replied, "I mean... don't take it personal or anything. He don't much like anyone."

"No?"

"No, for sure," he said, chuckling a little. "Seifer's a bit screwed up, case you didn't hear."

"Yes, indeed..." Dallia said with an air of such definitiveness that Zell couldn't think of anything more to add, and the rest of the ride passed in silence.

* * *

"So what's the deal?" he finally ventured to ask a while later, the first noise to break the quiet in the hotel room since he and Seifer had arrived back some hours earlier. He'd been working on the question in his head the whole afternoon but hadn't voiced it, as Seifer had been in a notably foul mood when they finally got back from the luncheon, but the curiosity was biting inside him and there was no point in waiting for the other man to lighten up; he might as well sit around and wait for Seifer to put on tights and dance the ballet. Seifer looked up from the novel he'd been pretending to read and didn't appear to be too pissed off, which was a good sign; but neither did he answer right away, instead seeming to think about it for a minute.

"What deal?" he said at length, his expression blank.

"You and Dallia. What's the deal?"

"There's no deal," Seifer said coolly, and promptly went back to his book. Zell, laying on his bed, suddenly sat up, closing his laptop and moving to the edge of the bed with a deep frown on his face.

"What do you mean, no deal? There's obviously a deal. She looks at you like you're her pet puppy dog or somethin'."

"What?" Seifer said sharply, standing up; his book tumbled to the floor. Zell stifled a grin; clearly this was a sore subject.

"I'm just saying. You're acting friggin' weird and you know it," he went on, shrugging very nonchalantly, but secretly enjoying the darkening expression on Seifer's face. "I mean, hell, if I wanted to suffer fuckin' mood swings, I woulda brought Rin along..."

Seifer stared at him and he stared back for a moment. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Yeah."

"You're doing a good job."

"I aim to," Zell said a bit proudly. "So. The deal?"

"There's no deal," Seifer repeated, snatching up his book from the floor and sitting heavily down on the couch again. "I don't like her. I don't like anyone. You might have noticed that."

He went back to pretending to read, and Zell watched him for a moment or two, biting his lip. "Your book's upside down there."

Seifer flipped it around. "Look," Zell said, jumping up from the bed and making exuberant hand motions, "something's going on here and I wanna know what it is. It's like there's some huge private joke that I'm not in on-"

"Well you're not the only fucking one," Seifer said tersely, abandoning his novel again. "I don't know what she's on about. She's fucking toying with us, that's what's going on."

"But why?"

"Fuck do I know?" he gave a frustrated sigh. "This whole mission is ridiculous. Whoever thought putting me and you together in a hotel room for a month was obviously addled beyond repair. I'm tempted to say fuck Squall, fuck Garden, and piss off from this joke of a job before I fucking hurt someone."

"Hm," was all Zell said in return, and then, "well that was a lovely speech."

"Fuck off," Seifer snarled, and he stomped away. Zell sat down on the bed as the door slammed behind the other man. He probably shouldn't have provoked Seifer; he'd be insufferably bad-tempered for a few days, no doubt. Or this was just another mood swing, and he'd be back to normal in the morning - one never really could tell with Seifer anymore. He certainly wasn't himself lately.

_Well,_ Zell thought to himself, laying back on the bed and picking up the remote, _at least he's out of the room tonight I can watch some telly..._


	14. Chapter 14

It had been a very quiet day; but, of course, that was because Zell had been out for most of it. Seifer lounged on the bed, having hours before given up the fight against boredom. They didn't have any engagements today, apart from reporting in to the General, who had just arrived back in town, and Zell was taking care of that on his own; but Seifer had to admit that it was awfully dull without the martial artist around. Granted, all they did together was mostly bicker, but at least it was fun. He'd spent much of the morning laying about, playing a very one-sided game of football with his novel as the ball, folding paper canes out of squares of toilet paper, flipping back and forth through the three bad soaps on TV, and pondering how very skewed his definition of "fun" was lately.

Afternoon had now rolled around and Zell was still out, which was probably supposed to be a point of some kind, but Seifer didn't know what. He was out of options as far as what he could do without leaving the hotel room; his book wasn't going to take much more abuse without completely falling to pieces, and he certainly wasn't going to try to read it again. He had just begun debating with himself whether this shoddy hotel might have room service, and if they could possibly supply him with some decent liquor, when Zell came back in, looking rather tired and exasperated, which meant that his meeting with Caraway had probably gone badly - which was good news for Seifer, as he found Zell in a bad mood a great deal more entertaining than Zell in a good mood. He sat up on the bed and tried to look less interested in Zell's mood than he really was.

"How'd the meeting go?"

"Shit," Zell exclaimed shortly, wrestling off his jacket and throwing it at the couch. "Total shit. Fuckin' ridiculous."

"That bad, huh?" Seifer muttered, but Zell ignored him.

"He didn't even listen to me. He obviously doesn't give a damn what his wife's doing," he went on vehemently, throwing himself onto the couch. "You know what he said when I told him about Dallia's little Garden idea? 'Oh, she gets these fancies from time to time.' _Fancies_. It's not like buying a lamp, for fuck's sake!"

"Well, I'm glad I didn't go with," Seifer said, watching the other man fume.

"_I'm_ glad you didn't go," Zell snapped back, rubbing his eyes as though he were indescribably tired. "I could barely keep my own temper, let alone have to worry about your crazy moods."

Seifer scowled. And the conversation had seemed to be going so well. "Bite me, chicken-wuss," he barked.

"Stop callin' me that, dickhead."

"I call 'em as I see 'em," Seifer said in reply, pointedly eying Zell's hairdo, which was more avian than ever as his hair had gotten rather long. "You look like a friggin' cockatoo. Get that shit down and I'll stop calling you names."

Zell glowered, but after a moment he raised a hand and ruffled his hair back to its normal shape, evidently willing to give up this small battle. He gave a little sigh and slumped down further into the couch. "Arsehole," he said half-heartedly.

"Dink."

"Fuck off!" Zell made a loud, aggravated sound in the back of his throat, kicking his shoes across the room. "Why are we arguing?"

"We're always arguing," Seifer replied, crossing his legs.

"Why are we arguing about stupid shit?"

"Well, what would you rather argue about? You find a good subject, and I promise I'll argue with you over it," he offered. Zell didn't look appeased. Seifer stretched over toward the bedside table and picked up the phone.

Zell gave him a shrewd look as he dialed. "What are you doing?"

"I want a drink. I know you could use one," Seifer remarked, cradling the receiver on his shoulder.

Zell made a pained face. "No, I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Don't argue," Seifer commanded. "Hello? Yeah, I'm calling for room service... What?" he mouthed the last at Zell, who was making distorted expressions of displeasure from the couch. The line clicked over, and he held up a hand to stall Zell's reply as he ordered.

"I don't think you should be doing that," Zell said after a moment, sounding unsure. "Bad things happen when you drink."

"Excuse me, when _I_ drink?" Seifer shot back, hanging up the phone and replacing it on the bedside table. "Who was the one who couldn't navigate a set of stairs on his own the last time he made a night of it?"

"Oi, at least I made it to the stairs. If I recall correctly, you couldn't even make it down the corridor on your own two feet," Zell retorted.

"For your information, I was on my feet until you opened the door and sent me tumbling." Seifer wasn't certain that was true - in fact he was pretty sure it wasn't - but Zell didn't need to know that. Zell said nothing, and seemed intent on pointedly sulking from his spot on the couch, occasionally shooting disapproving stares Seifer's way, which Seifer was happy to ignore for the next few minutes until there was a knock on the door. _If anything, at least they're quick here,_ he thought to himself as he got up to answer, Zell's narrowed eyes following him across the room. He opened the door to find the Trabian desk girl on the other side, wielding a small trolley, and grinning in a particularly unsettling way up at him.

"Room service!" she chirped, trying to jimmy her cart through the door that Seifer was purposely holding shut, and looking a little peeved when she realized that he wasn't going to let her in the room - and then looking more excited, which Seifer found disturbed him a bit.

"I'll take it from here, thanks," he said, grabbing the cart and slipping it through the doorway while expertly preventing her from following. She peeked her head around the door, smiling deviously.

"Hi, Zell!"

"Hi, Seera," Zell replied from his spot on the couch, relinquishing a smile to her but apparently unwilling to give up his brooding in order to do more than that.

"So, um," she said, not seeming too disappointed not to have found either of them in flagrante, but evidently not about to give up whatever crusade she was on. "I kind of, um, wanted to ask you something-"

"Yes, thanks, that will do," Seifer interrupted, gently easing her back out the door.

"But, um...!"

"Yes, good-bye," he said, nudging the door shut with a click as she stumbled back into the hallway. He listened for a moment with satisfaction at the sound of her stomping in a pique down the hall, and then turned back to check out the contents of the cart, while Zell shot him disapproving glares from the direction of the couch.

"That was uncalled for, I think," he said sternly.

"Really? I don't," Seifer replied casually. He was fairly certain Zell wouldn't be of the same mind if he knew what kinds of ideas his new friend was _really_ entertaining about the two of them, but he wasn't about to tell Zell that.

"What's that?" Zell asked next.

Seifer held up the bottle so that Zell could see the label. "Cristal," he said, rather surprised himself. Zell made a face.

"Champagne? What?"

"I'm actually a bit impressed, myself," Seifer said, reaching for a glass. He turned to Zell with a sly smile. "Want some?"

"Pass," the other man replied, holding up a hand in firm denial. Seifer only shrugged, pouring a drink for himself and pulling the little trolley with him across the room to the bed. But he had only been there for a few minutes before Zell suddenly stood up, looking determined about something, if a bit cross.

"I've thought of something," he announced.

"Oh? Congratulations?" Seifer offered.

"To argue about," Zell went on, ignoring Seifer's jibe. "Since you said you wanted to."

"Please, do tell," Seifer invited, keeping the sarcasm in his tone to a bare minimum as he sipped his champagne.

"You've still never told me what your plan is," the other boy declared triumphantly, as though he'd just won something over Seifer. The ex-knight lounged on the bed, thinking for a minute before he concluded that he had no idea what Zell was talking about; accordingly, he told Zell as much, which appeared to only make him angrier, which Seifer found enjoyable in itself, despite the unpleasant turn the other man's mood was rapidly taking. "You know what I'm talking about," Zell insisted.

"No, I'm quite sure I don't."

"Your _plan_..." Zell reiterated, advancing toward the bed with his arms folded stiffly across his chest. "So that Quistis wouldn't think we were... you know..."

Seifer sat up, contemplating his champagne for a moment. "Oh, yes, that plan," he said nonchalantly, unable to repress a grin, and relishing in how steamed his answer was making Zell. He had, in truth, forgotten all about the fact that he'd told Zell there was any sort of plan, not that there really even _was_ much of a plan to begin with.

"Yes, _that_ one," Zell repeated as he began to pace around the small room in an agitated manner. "That one where you promised me you were going to get her off my case..."

"I've already done it," Seifer said easily. Zell's expression clearly denoted his disbelief of this statement.

"When?"

"Just before we left Balamb."

"Please!" Zell huffed, shooting accusatory glares in Seifer's direction. "She was _completely_ on my case just before we left. You know, she came to the station just as we were off to _ask_ me about it?"

"Yes," Seifer replied, "and you set her straight, didn't you?"

"Well, I... yeah-" Zell said, suddenly confused.

"So, she no longer thinks we're sleeping together?"

Zell simply stared for several long moments. Seifer finished off his glass and reached for the bottle to pour another. He could practically watch the cogs in Zell's head turning round; as if a switch had been flipped, his entire bearing changed when he suddenly put it together.

"If you tell me," he said slowly, his voice quiet but thick with ire, "that you _purposely_ let her believe that you and me-"

"Of course that's what I did, Dincht," Seifer cut in, "and frankly, I'm amazed you didn't figure what I was up to before now. Or that _she_ didn't. I don't think I could have been more obvious about it."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Zell barked, marching over to the bed and grabbing Seifer up by his shirtfront, which the other man only allowed because he suspected that to fight back might threaten the stability of the drink in his hand. Besides, it had been a while since he had seen Zell at the height of wrath - which he appeared to be rapidly approaching - and Seifer was fully prepared to enjoy the spectacle, especially if things progressed in a similar manner as the last time he and Zell had had an altercation.

"Not sure we have the time for that conversation now-"

"Shut up! And knock it off with that-!" Zell interrupted, snatching the glass of champagne out of Seifer's hand.

"Do you know how much that costs?" Seifer asked calmly.

"Not as much as the satisfaction I'll get from kicking your arse," Zell snarled back, shoving the gunblader backwards onto the bed and downed the stolen champagne, tossing the empty glass onto the floor. He threw a quick right at Seifer, who managed to perform a sprightly, if rather unseemly sideways roll to avoid it. He slid off the end of the bed as Zell recovered, using the recoil from the mattress to bounce back to his feet and grasp the back of Seifer's shirt to keep him from escaping.

"Not so fast, arsehole," he growled, aiming a jab at the back of Seifer's head but just skimming his ear instead. The boy was really intent on beating his satisfaction out of Seifer, that was for sure. He spun around suddenly, catching Zell off-guard, and twisted his arm up his back, using his weight to pin Zell to the bed; Zell, evidently taken by surprise, was still for a moment, and Seifer took advantage of the brief lull in the action to lean down close, savoring in the way Zell's entire body tensed as he breathed down the martial artist's neck, his lips not an inch from Zell's ear.

"If you really want to fight in bed, chicken-wuss, you're going to have to show me some better moves," he murmured.

"That so?" Zell replied, his voice muffled with his face pressed into the mattress. He jerked backward abruptly, and Seifer shifted just quick enough to barely avoid having his nose bashed in by Zell's headbutt, which hit him instead squarely in the right eye. His vision swimming, he reeled backward; Zell shot out from beneath him like a light and landed two more good hooks on Seifer's jaw before he could stumble out of the other man's range. He backed into the wall and slid down to the floor, spots blossoming before his eyes and his brain still rattling from the blow to the head.

Zell remained by the bed, his fists still cocked, but didn't advance on Seifer again. "Man, I don't know what ever made me think letting you handle things was a good idea," he said, scoffing.

"If you'd stop using your head as a battering ram and actually use the brain that I'm sure is in there somewhere, you might realize that I handled things pretty well," Seifer shot back, clutching his head, which was beginning to throb. "At least I came up with something, instead of just flapping my mouth and throwing punches."

"I dunno, throwing punches is workin' pretty good for me right now," Zell said darkly. Seifer sneered.

"You know Quistis as well as I do," he said, pulling himself to his feet with as much grace as he could muster, having just been spectacularly beat down by Zell. "She was mortified, wasn't she? When she figured out she was wrong? She'll never even dare to _think_ about the possibility again."

Zell thought about it for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically blank; whether or not he accepted Seifer's declaration as true, Seifer couldn't tell. But he appeared to be calming down a little - though Seifer couldn't decide if he was pleased or not about the turn in Zell's countenance; on one hand, he was much less likely to get beaten up if Zell was stable... but on the other, Zell in a passionate rage was something Seifer was coming to find he rather liked, and it was much easier - almost _too_ easy, Seifer was inclined to think - to goad Zell on when he was angry. He was fairly certain that Zell hadn't been laid in quite a long time, and he was only slightly less certain that Zell was attracted to him enough for it to mean something; and Seifer knew (because he was, in fact, facing the exact same predicament as Zell, only he was much less in denial about it,) that under the strain of that much sexual tension, it was only a matter of time before Zell snapped - the important thing was that it happened before Seifer himself did. The real purpose of stirring Zell up was, of course, to bring that tension to a head; and the faster Seifer could do it without the other man figuring out what he was up to, the better.

"I guess maybe you could be right," Zell admitted reluctantly, easing back a bit on his stance. "But it's beside the point anyway," he went on, his tone not yet forgiving. Seifer steadied himself on his feet, making sure he could properly walk before making his way back across the room.

"Son of a bitch," Seifer muttered to himself as he beelined for the bottle he'd left on the trolley beside the bed, clutching his pounding head with one hand. "You didn't specify how I should throw Trepe off the scent. I said I'd get it done, and you agreed. That's all there is to it. Is your head made of bloody stone?"

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Zell shot back, and then paused to think over how that sounded. Seifer only rolled his eyes, taking a swig of champagne straight from the bottle and sitting gingerly on the bed, his jaw aching where Zell had clocked him, head throbbing. That was what he got for egging Zell on, he supposed; this fight was going all wrong. But he might yet be able to salvage it.

"Gonna give yourself a headache," Zell said warningly, watching Seifer upend the bottle.

"_You_ give me a headache, Dincht," he snapped back, sounding harsher than he'd intended; Zell looked surprised, and Seifer went on bitterly, "if only I didn't have to hear your obnoxious voice again, I could live my life happily."

"Oh, yeah, and this situation is a _dream_ for me," Zell bit, his temper returning in full force. "I just _love_ the constant bickering and having to watch my back every hour of the friggin' day for fear that you'll jump me-"

"Please. Don't flatter yourself, chicken-wuss."

"You call me that one more time, and I swear I'll-" Zell began, but Seifer cut him off.

"You'll what, belt me again?" he said scornfully, staring the other man down; Zell was beginning to look furious, his face red, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're always talking," Seifer went on, his tone thick with disdain, "but all you do is throw punches when the conversation takes a turn you don't like."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zell asked, his voice low.

"It means I'm fucking well sick of hearing you yap, Dincht," Seifer replied, standing up quickly from the bed; Zell backstepped swiftly, assuming a defensive stance, as though afraid that Seifer was going to run him down right there. "I, for one, would like to be able to have a conversation that doesn't end in you storming out or me getting decked. If you could just get over yourself-"

"Man, shut up!"

"No, I don't think so," Seifer said, stepping forward, and driving Zell back. He knew he was really pissing the other man off, but he wasn't about to stop now - the trouble was, he was getting rather pissed off himself at Zell's wishy-washyness. Sure, the boy could hold his own against Seifer in a verbal match - was getting pretty good at it, too - but as soon as Seifer said something that hit too close to home, Zell started swinging; and fun as it had been, Seifer was starting to find that it was less amusing when he actually wanted to have a discussion with Zell and the other man started deflecting questions with his fists. Not that Seifer didn't enjoy a good old-fashioned fist fight, nor would he ever shy away from one, but it would be nice to just be able to verbally spar with Zell once in a while without it turning into a bout. "Look, I know we both have issues-"

"I don't got any issues!" Zell insisted vehemently.

"Dincht, you got more issues than Timber Maniacs, and that's coming from _me_," Seifer said, but before he could add anything further, Zell jumped forward, grabbing Seifer again by the front of his already-wrinkled shirt and pulling him close.

"The only _issue_ I got," he snarled, his face just inches from Seifer's, "is with you, Almasy. The world would be a damn better place if you just weren't in it. I fucking hate you."

"Yes, well," Seifer huffed, slapping Zell's hands away from him, and trying not to seem offended - somehow the sentiment seemed much more genuine when Zell wasn't drunk, or in the middle of throwing a right hook, and Seifer surprised himself by feeling a bit hurt, despite having heard it a million times before. "I think we've been over that before-"

"And we'll be over it again, as many times as I need to get it through your thick head," Zell cut in, his voice now positively venomous. "I don't like you, and I don't want nothin' to do with you. All I want is to get through this month without having to try to keep myself from _murdering_ you too many times, and the only way that's gonna happen is if you stay well the fuck away from me."

Then he turned and strode out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, while Seifer, stunned by the utterly cold and caustic manner of this remark, was trying to dredge up a reply, still clutching the bottle of champagne in one hand. It was a few moments before he could gather his thoughts enough to look back over what had just happened, but clearly it had not gone very well. Slowly he sat back down on the edge of the bed, lifting the bottle to take a drink and mulling over Zell's parting words in his head. "...I see," he said uselessly to himself, and gave a defeated sigh. 

* * *

Several hours and the better part of a bottle of champagne later, it occurred to Seifer that he might do well to try and figure out where Zell had gone to. He hadn't returned after his earlier retreat (Seifer had convinced himself that he was the winner of that confrontation,) and Seifer had been too busy swilling wine and thinking in circles about how he had managed to piss the martial artist off and if the situation could be rectified to bother noticing that the object of most of his thoughts was still conspicuously absent. He glanced at the clock and was surprised by the hour; it was much later than he'd thought. Where could Zell have got to?

He stumbled off the bed, leaving the near-empty bottle of Cristal where it was on the pillow, and snatched his trenchcoat up off the couch on his way out the door. He made his way to the lobby - somewhat haltingly; he was perhaps a bit drunker than he'd imagined - wondering how in the world he was going to find Zell, and possibly what he was going to do when he _did_ find him (a train of thought that spurred a long string of interesting mental images before he could stop himself.) The boy could honestly be anywhere, doing anything - Seifer decided he really shouldn't have let him leave in the first place. Aside from the fact that letting Zell storm off into Deling City in a rage seemed like a bad idea, Seifer was rather annoyed at having to go out there himself to find him, when he'd prefer to stay in bed, finish off his champagne, and sleep off their fight, with Zell doing the same - ideally, beside him.

Seifer stopped by the front desk, trying to clear his head. He must be drunk - he'd never be entertaining such silly thoughts if he weren't. He didn't _feel_ drunk; merely a bit light-headed. The girl behind the desk watched him warily.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked meekly.

Seifer turned to look at her, frowning. "Your name's Seera, yeah?" he asked, and she nodded without answering. Seifer leaned over the counter. "Where's Zell gone?"

"Well..." she mumbled, biting her lip, and she averted her eyes guiltily. Seifer slapped a hand on the faux-marble counter, and she flinched.

"Look, you daft bloody cow," he hissed, "get your head out of your sick fantasy world and tell me where he's gone before I have to think up creative ways to _make_ you tell me-"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Seera squeaked, lower lip trembling. "He went up Sixth Street! It was about two hours ago, so he probably hasn't gotten far!"

"Alright! Thanks!" Seifer said, feeling that that was somehow easier than he'd expected it to be. He turned then to go, but she caught his arm before he could leave.

"Umm," she started, taking a deep breath, and then said in a rush, "I just want to say, um... I'm on your side and Zell told me what happened and even though I think you're kind of a jerk I think maybe you have a point about him and even though I think he'd be better off without you I guess maybe I'm rooting for you. So good luck."

She flashed him a winning grin, showing a gap in her front teeth, and gave his hand an encouraging pat. Seifer wasn't sure which was funnier, the fact that she really thought that he and Zell were a couple, or the fact that she was on _his_ side after hearing about their argument. He didn't say anything in reply, but he was smirking as he turned to go, striding out into the night with a spring in his step.

He wandered along down the sidewalk, vaguely thinking to himself that this wasn't at all a good idea; there must be at least a dozen bars not two blocks up the street, which was a lot of places to check, even if Zell hadn't gotten further than that. But luck was with him for once - it was the second bar he poked his head into, dimly lit and way overcrowded, where he spotted a familiar blonde head at the far end of the counter, kneeling on top of a stool but still only a head above the rest of the crowd. He and a couple of burly guys dressed in red were adamantly watching a television screen hung above the bar, where a replay of the day's earlier football match was playing. Seifer watched for a moment; something happened, and half the bar erupted in cheers, Zell swinging around on his stool and bashing his mug of beer against whoever else's glass was close, and in fact sloshing most of his beer out of the glass before he finally brought it to his mouth to drink it. Seifer suppressed a grin; but Zell was such a goon, it was undeniably cute. He fought his way through the mass of drunk, clamoring football fans toward Zell's end of the bar.

Zell caught sight of him halfway there, and his disposition darkened as Seifer approached. "Oh, it's you," he said unenthusiastically.

"Having fun, chicken-wuss?" Seifer said as Zell clambered down from his bar stool.

"I was, in fact, lots of it, 'til you showed up," he grumbled, handing his mug over the counter for a refill. The mountain of a man standing next to him, wearing a red jersey with a '15' emblazoned on the back, gave Seifer a dirty look from under his unibrow, which Seifer returned full-force until Zell turned back around, his expression creased with displeasure. "Whaddaya want? Come ta' pick another fight?"

"Come to take you back before you get yourself into trouble, that's what," Seifer answered, his voice a little more slurred and a little less sharp than he would have liked. He must have been rather drunker than he thought. Zell didn't appear to like this suggestion; his frown morphed into a scowl.

"I'm not gonna get in _trouble,_" he said vehemently.

"I'd wager you already are," Seifer mumbled, not failing to notice the unfriendly glares his discourse with Zell was earning him from the red-clad ruffians gathered around the martial artist. "These your friends?"

"Aye, and who are you, mate?" one of the guys behind Zell jumped forward to answer before he could, and the rest of them nodded in unison. Seifer looked round at the lot of them, taking care not to hide his disdain.

"Really, Dincht, I'm gonna have to question your taste if these are the type of guys you're turning me down for," he said, smirking. Zell's face went as red as his jersey (_where ever did he get that?_ Seifer wondered silently,) but the first punch wasn't his, but the guy beside him, whose massive fist collided with the side of Seifer's head just a moment later. Zell cried out as Seifer went reeling and the whole end of the bar erupted in a brawl.

"Fuckin' idiot!" Zell shouted, diving into the crowd to squeeze his way between Seifer and the thug who was brandishing his mug in a rather threatening way in the area of Seifer's head. "See what you've done! Why d'you gotta always open your damned sarcastic mouth at jus' the wrong moment!"

"Just in my nature, I suppose," Seifer murmured, staggering to his feet with Zell's help; he wasn't sure if it was the champagne or the number of blows to the head he'd sustained that afternoon, but he was feeling somewhat woozy. "Ready to go?"

Zell stared at him for a moment, with the expression of someone trying to work calculus in their head. "I don't get you," he declared, "you a masochist or what?"

"How about less talk, more flee?" Seifer suggested.

"Man, you come in here-" Zell began, grunting as he hauled Seifer through the crowd, "start a fight - don't apologize to me or nothin' - and then you expect me to help you escape?"

"If you'd be so kind."

"I tell you what, Almasy-" he started again, but whatever he meant to say was promptly silenced by the bar stool, wielded by number 15, that came swinging out of left field, coming to a halt in Seifer's ribcage. He went down instantly, but just as quickly Zell had hopped over him, fist cocked - and as if in slow motion, his fist landed squarely in the thug's face, blood spraying as his nose crumpled like paper. He hit the ground like a boulder, and the fight stalled around them as Zell looked round challengingly, an angry grimace etched on his face. "Awright, who else wants some?!" he shouted, fists up. No one seemed to want to oblige, and he strode back to Seifer, yanking him to his feet again - though with some difficulty; Seifer found his legs appeared to have been connected to whatever that bar stool broke inside him, as they no longer were cooperating with his need to walk. Together they hobbled out of the bar and into the street, where a number of the bar's patrons had relocated their own brawls to; neither talking, they made their way back up the street.

"Where'd you get that shirt?" Seifer broke the silence to ask a minute later. Zell frowned, looking down at the jersey with a puzzled expression.

"A dude gave it to me."

"A dude gave it to you?"

"To cheer me up?" Zell said unsurely. "Cos I think I told everyone in that bar how you was treatin' me like dirt."

"Huh," was all Seifer could manage, and for the next few minutes they stumbled down the sidewalk in silence again. "Then, I guess," he began thoughtfully, "I ought to apologize."

"You fucking better had ought to!"

"Since you're obviously not holding a _grudge_, or anything," Seifer added pointedly, only earning himself a sharp pain all down his right side as Zell jerked him forward roughly.

"Fuck you," the martial artist growled, helping Seifer along none-too-gently.

"Would you like to?"

"You _are_ a masochist," Zell muttered to himself, but a grin broke on his face as they staggered into the lobby of the hotel, which was mercifully empty - even the desk girl had gone; a pity, Seifer thought privately, she'd missed out on quite a show. Though, with any luck, the main event was yet to come. They stopped by the desk and Seifer slumped down against the counter, taking a moment to breathe. Daggers of pain ran up and down his right side with every movement, despite the champagne-induced cloud his brain seemed to be floating in at that moment. Though Zell, for his part, wasn't looking very sober either; he was disheveled and beer-stained, red-faced and looking awfully sleepy.

"Think you got some broken ribs there," Zell remarked, looking down at Seifer and smirking a little; clearly, he was finding some amusement in Seifer's pain, but at this point Seifer was just glad he was in a bit of a better mood.

"Not looking too hot yourself, chicken."

"I've had worse," Zell said coolly. "Get up, it's the home stretch."

"Uuugh," Seifer moaned, feeling queasy as the room spun around him. Zell was laughing at him, but Seifer was too focused on keeping himself upright to care.

"Think I recall saying this would be a bad idea," Zell teased.

"It's not the drinking that did me in," Seifer retorted sharply, clutching his side. "That fucker had a fist like a bowling ball. I think I've had enough blows to the head for one night."

"If you're asking me, I think you could use a few more," Zell said, fumbling with his keycard before they both fell through the door into their room. He half-dragged Seifer, who was concentrating on trying not to vomit and hadn't the capacity for much else, across the room, and ordered, "sit on the bed and don't move. I'll be right back."

Seifer obeyed, sitting hunched over at the end of the bed with his arms wrapped around himself, trying to do as Zell said and not move, though his side flashed with pain every time he took a breath. He listened to the sound of Zell rummaging in the other room, and then the other man came back with a couple of potions and a glass of water.

"Couldn't find anything stronger?" Seifer said, grudgingly taking the glass. Zell scowled at him, tossing the rest onto the bed and then crawling on to it himself, moving around to kneel behind Seifer.

"Think we're both drunk enough already."

"I think you could stand to be drunker," Seifer remarked, sipping the water.

"Take this," Zell said, handing one of the bottles around to Seifer, who gingerly reached out to take it. "Now sit up straight."

"Anything else, sir?" Seifer said snidely.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact: quit bein' a smartass," Zell replied. He pulled Seifer's shirt up to take a look at his side, making quiet thoughtful noises to himself as he inspected, prodding and poking at Seifer's ribs in a way that Seifer could only conclude was designed to make him feel as much pain as humanly possible in that area. "You got at least four broke ones here, and two in more'n one place. Way to go."

"I'll be lucky if nothing else in there is broke after you're done pushing my bones around," Seifer snapped.

"Bit testy, are we? Just hold still a minute and we'll get you all lined up."

Seifer took a sip of his water, and was about to comment on how much he might have loved to hear Zell say that under slightly different circumstances, when Zell began shifting his ribs around again. "Son of a _bitch_...!" he swore, gritting his teeth.

"That's what you get for picking fights in bars," Zell admonished.

Seifer said nothing; _but it was worth it,_ he concluded silently, pushing down a grin, despite the spears of agony that ripped through his side every time he, or Zell, moved. Four broken ribs notwithstanding, the end result of the night was not too bad if it got Zell to crawl into bed with him, even if all the other man was doing was fixing him up. Zell leaned forward, holding Seifer's side with both hands, his breath on Seifer's neck as he said, "alright, drink your potion. And hold still, I mean it."

"Yes, _mum_," Seifer muttered, unscrewing the bottle top with careful movements and downing the potion. Almost immediately the pain dulled, and he relaxed, but Zell brought him rudely back to reality with a sharp poke in the side.

"Straight! Sit up straight, I said!"

"For fuck's sake...!"

"I'm jus' tryin' to help!" Zell insisted, though Seifer couldn't help but think that he could probably find a way to help that didn't involve causing him excruciating pain if he really tried. It had been too long since he'd been seriously injured; he must have forgotten what it was like, he concluded, trying not to whine as Zell put pressure on his side to keep his ribs in place. "I don't want you blamin' me if it heals up all crooked. Give the potion a few minutes and quit bitchin'."

Seifer made a few disgruntled noises but ultimately yielded as the pain gradually began to subside. He could feel the bone knitting; the sensation was odd, though it didn't hurt. And aside from the pain, the entire situation was not all unpleasant, with Zell right behind him - Zell's chest pressed against Seifer's bare back, his knees locked tight around Seifer's hips as he used his weight as a makeshift splint against the gunblader's crushed ribcage. Zell's breath was warm on Seifer's neck, and Seifer tried not to let it affect him. "Think you can let go now," he said quietly, breathing deeply.

"Feels better?" Zell said, releasing his grip and shuffling around to Seifer's side to take a look at his torso. Seifer shifted a bit, twisted, and grunted in pain.

"It's not perfect, but it'll do," he said. Zell ran his fingers over the area, prodding gently here and there. "It's tender, but the worst of the pain's gone," Seifer added, hoping to encourage Zell to stop jabbing him with his fingers, when something caught his eye. "Dincht, your hand..."

"Yeah, I broke it real good on that big lug's face," Zell murmured, still feeling about Seifer's ribs with both hands - one mottled and bruised, slightly misshapen, still spattered with blood from the goon at the bar. Seifer frowned, feeling somewhat put-out.

"You could have mentioned that-"

"Don't worry about it," Zell interrupted, giving a small sigh. "Like I said, I've had worse."

"Stop poking around," Seifer said snippily, waving Zell's hands away. "You could have taken care of that first."

"It don't hurt that bad. 'Sides, it woulda taken longer. Hand bones are delicate. And I didn't want to listen to you whinge waiting for it to heal before I could fix you up," Zell declared, finally giving up on Seifer's ribs and sitting back in the middle of the bed, holding his broken hand out in front of him. "Stay there and don't go movin' around. You still ain't properly healed yet."

"Whatever," Seifer grumbled, but he turned halfway to watch Zell set his hand, finding himself rather annoyed with the other man, though he couldn't quite place why. Zell grimaced as he gently worked the bones of his hand, feeling, pushing and sliding and rearranging bits under the skin with strange precision. He worked at it much more slowly and carefully than with Seifer's ribs, and Seifer watched the process with an odd fascination.

"You sure know your bones," he remarked after a few minutes, as Zell was looking over his hand closely.

"Got to, don't I?" he replied with a shrug. "Gotta be able to take care of this shit myself. If I break a hand out in the field and it sets all wonky, I'm screwed, ain't I?"

"I guess," Seifer said dumbly, never really having had thought about it. Which really just proved how big the gap was between them, professionally speaking; nearly five years after the war, Seifer was still a measly twelfth rank SeeD, who had never been trusted enough to even get sent on a mission where real danger was a possibility. He felt suddenly a bit melancholy, and watched silently as Zell grabbed the potion with his free hand, unscrewing the top with his teeth, and gulped the drink down, shuddering at the taste. Seifer reached down for the glass of water he'd set aside earlier, and offered it to Zell, who took it gratefully. They sat quietly for a few minutes, Zell cradling his hand in his lap, Seifer still clutching his side.

"How's it feeling now?" Zell asked after a while, not looking all that interested but merely making conversation. He looked drowsy, his eyes heavy and his hair mussed. Seifer was thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, let's find out," he said in reply, turning round suddenly and sliding across the bed toward Zell. It was, in fact, feeling much better as compared to before; his side was rather stiff, but there was minimal pain as he pushed Zell down under him and kissed him, ignoring the muffled noise of protest Zell tried to make for a moment before giving up. And rather quickly, at that, Seifer didn't fail to notice - any lack of a distinct protest on Zell's part was odd, but he had barely even _pretended_ he was against this - which was probably as much of an acquiescence as he was ever going to get, Seifer figured. In honesty, he had been expecting another fist in the face, and had even come to the conclusion that it would be worth getting clobbered one last time for the day, if it got a rise out of Zell.

He was so wrapped up in thinking about it that it was a few moments before he realized that not only was Zell not resisting, but he was actually kissing back, and not lightly at that. His good hand was on Seifer's shoulder, gripping his shirt in a tight fist, pulling him closer; Seifer obliged, slipping an arm under Zell's back, and using his other arm to prop himself up - okay, so maybe Zell had had a point; his ribs weren't feeling too hot right then - but it was _so_ worth it for this kiss, this fucking _amazing_ kiss. It was so unlike the others - there was no fight, there was no anger - and the difference was astounding; it was hard, but not fierce; hot, but not raging; passionate, but not violent. It was a tantalizing taste of what maybe, just possibly, could be, Seifer realized as he pulled away, deducing from the look on Zell's face that he wasn't about to let it happen again.

"Ya sneaky bastard," he said, his voice, drowsy and smug, not lining up with his irked expression. "You know I can't fight back."

"You got a left hand," Seifer pointed out with a smirk, rolling away and sitting up at the end of the bed.

"Oh, yeah," Zell said blankly, as if he'd forgotten, looking down at the hand in question. Then he returned his gaze to Seifer, giving him a stern glare that completely failed to intimidate, and said, "thought I told you not to move, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I thought you realized after the first couple times you said it that I wasn't listening," Seifer replied, standing up carefully, still feeling a bit dazed - though whether it was from the alcohol, all the head shots, or the kiss, he couldn't say. His side was sore again, but nowhere near as bad as it had been. He hobbled toward the couch and flopped down on the cushions without bothering to pull the mattress out - it couldn't possibly be _worse_ than sleeping on the mattress itself, anyway.

"Night," Zell said from the other room. Seifer grunted in response, watching the other man fall into bed, one shoe still on. _Silly idiot,_ Seifer thought to himself, staring at the ceiling; Zell was evidently asleep within moments, but it was a very long while still before Seifer could quiet his thoughts enough to follow suit.


	15. Chapter 15

The atmosphere in the hotel room was noticeably and painfully subdued the next morning. The ringing of the room phone, which was on the table beside the bed but might as well have been inside Zell's skull for how damn loud it was, was what woke him, and he grasped around until he found it.

"Don't tell me you're still in bed at this hour," a familiar voice cooed over the line in response to Zell's drowsy greeting.

"Irv?" he mumbled, sitting up slowly and reluctantly opening his eyes to peer at the clock on the nightstand until its numbers began to make sense to him. "Um. What...?"

"It's after noon already, what's wrong with you? You drunk?"

"No," Zell said, rubbing his head with a still-stiff right hand. "I mean... urr."

"Well, sober up. Let's get some lunch. I'm leaving town tonight and we haven't even got to hang out," Irvine chattered, sounding entirely unconcerned that Zell's brain was throbbing with each word he spoke. "Meet me at the Fourth Avenue Cafe. It's just down the street from the Grand. Twenty minutes. See you."

"No, umm, I don't think that..." Zell started, but Irvine had already hung up the line. He groaned to himself, throwing the phone away. He'd known it would be a bad idea to drink, and a spectacular headache was now proving him unpleasantly right. Not that he'd needed to wait for the hangover - letting Seifer kiss him last night was pretty much the worst idea he'd ever had, though it had seemed like rather a good one at the time. Funny how that always happened when he drank. Though Seifer's close proximity may have had a bit to do with it - his voice all low and seductive, his chest bare, and so warm... no, that was a bad, bad line of thought to be pursuing so early in the day, Zell decided. He wasn't clear-headed enough yet to contemplate how close he'd come to doing something highly regrettable.

He staggered out of bed and spent as little effort as possible getting dressed, stopping on the way out the door only to gulp down a glass of water and search - unsuccessfully - for some more potion in his gear bag; now that he was up and moving around, he was feeling rather more sick than he'd thought. Seifer was still asleep in a very awkward position on the couch, one arm twisted behind his back and the other hanging off the edge (_that's not going to be good for his ribs,_ Zell thought to himself.) But at least he wasn't awake, bitching and complaining about his headache, his sideache, Zell's irritating voice, or whatever else he felt like jabbing at as he always did when he was in a foul mood. Zell was suddenly struck with the thought that he was _way_ too familiar with Seifer's moods.

It was a pleasant day, and he felt a bit better as he made his way down the street. Physically, at least - his brain felt like a scrambled egg, and as he reflected on what had happened the night before, it might as well be one, he thought. Letting Seifer goad him into a fight, letting Seifer kiss him - well, the point in fact was that he was simply letting Seifer get away with too much. The problem was that these things always happened when he was drunk, and therefore when things like kissing his mortal enemy just didn't seem that big of a deal.

_Mortal enemy?_ Zell thought for a moment, disturbed by how easily the words had come to mind. No, he wouldn't call Seifer that... would he? He certainly didn't like Seifer, but there were times when he wasn't so bad... actually, as Zell thought about it, he could distinctly remember times when he had found Seifer's company enjoyable. He'd been living with Seifer for over a week now; it wasn't like they were constantly fighting... okay, they were constantly bickering, but Zell figured that was just how Seifer communicated; he couldn't, in fact, think of a time when he had ever conversed with Seifer _without_ there being bickering. But they'd only really gotten into it a few times, and each of those, he had to admit to himself, Seifer had been provoked. _Or rather,_ Zell thought, _I provoked him into provoking_ me.

He stopped where he was on the sidewalk to ponder that for a moment. It wasn't like he _liked_ fighting with Seifer... or perhaps it was? He felt a bit queasy suddenly, and he had a feeling it wasn't anything to do with his hangover. _Maybe_ I'm _the one who's the masochist_, he thought morosely. He'd been trying to play it cool, shrugging off all Seifer's snarky comments and insults, and he appeared to have failed miserably. It was just so _hard_ - something about Seifer grated at him for no explicable reason.

_That's a lie and you know it,_ he told himself, and continued walking down the street, coming up on the Galbadia Grand Hotel. He knew exactly what irritated him about Seifer, and it had a lot to do with the fact that he wanted badly - almost _desperately_ - to fuck him. And that, he reflected, at least _was_ for no explicable reason - he'd known Seifer for years and never once had felt any sort of romantic or sexual inclination toward him until the night the bastard crawled into his bed. And if he kept doing it, Zell was afraid he might just give in... the idea was too horrifying to consider.

He banished the unpleasant thoughts from his mind as he approached the cafe, where Irvine was already waiting at a table, though evidently with little success as the first thing the redhead said to him was, "well, I see someone had a rough night. Can I assume Seifer is in as bad of shape as you appear to be? Because it would make my day if you said yes."

"Hello to you too," Zell mumbled as he took his seat. Within seconds, a young, pretty waitress was at his side to take his order, though her eyes were locked on Irvine and she didn't even write it down when he asked for a black coffee. Irvine grinned and winked at her, and she fluttered back inside the cafe, while Zell repressed a groan of disgust. "Sometimes I really hate you, ya know."

"I can't help it if I have loads of natural charm," Irvine replied, sipping a soda. Then he shrugged. "Besides, you know I'm a one-woman-man. I am completely and entirely devoted to my dearest Selphie," he said, assuming a gallant expression. Zell snorted, leaning back in his chair.

"Which might mean more if she actually was aware of your devotion, don't you think?"

"She'll know it someday," was the other man's casual answer, and he paused in the conversation for a minute as the waitress came back and deposited a cup of coffee before Zell, simpering in Irvine's direction again before leaving. He smiled wryly, shaking his head. "Things are good the way they are now, aren't they?"

"I guess, if you can stand just being friends with someone you hopelessly want to shag," Zell replied bitterly before he could stop himself. He looked up from his coffee, but luckily Irvine didn't seem to have taken note of his remark; he was looking at Zell's left hand, which he was using to clumsily stir sugar into his drink.  
"Something wrong with your right hand?"

"Oh," Zell sighed - of _course_ Irvine would notice something stupid like that - and said, "I broke it last night..."

Irvine's expression went positively gleeful, and Zell huffed, half-frustrated and half-amused by his friend's eager interest in his drunken exploits. "In a bar fight," he elaborated, and Irvine sat back, still grinning.

"I thought you were gonna say you broke it on Seifer's face," he said with a chuckle. "I love the idea of you wailin' on him. Oh well."

"What's he done to you lately?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," Irvine said nonchalantly, stirring his soda idly with his straw. "I just don't like the guy. You'd think he'd be humbled by what's happened, but he still acts like he's the king of the friggin' world. I think he deserves an occasional right hook."

"Aren't you being a little harsh?" Zell asked hesitantly, feeling somehow irritated by the direction the conversation was taking. "I mean, he's had a pretty shitty lot, don't you think?"

"Didn't we all?" Irvine replied, with a sharp edge to his tone that Zell wasn't accustomed to hearing. Amending in a forcedly more cheerful voice, he went on, "I guess you came out a bit better than the rest of us, with a family and all. But we all grew up in Garden, we all lived the same lifestyle, and he's the only one who turned out a prick and went crazy-"

"He didn't go crazy, Irv," Zell cut in a bit more vehemently than he intended, but Irvine merely waved his remark aside.

"What do you call hieing off with a psycho sorceress?"

"A bad choice," Zell responded decisively. "Remember he'd just failed the SeeD exam - for the _second_ time. He probably thought she had more to offer him than Garden ever would. That don't make him crazy, it was just a bad choice."

Irvine sat forward again, about to reply, when he paused, and then said as if it had just occurred to him, "Why are you defending him?"

Zell had to think about his answer for a moment before it came to him. "Well, someone's got to, since you're trying so hard to bastardize him," he said coldly, but then adopted a disaffected expression, a little perturbed himself by the fact that he _was_ defending Seifer - and he hadn't even realized it. "I mean, I don't like the guy either, but I gotta admit he's had it pretty rough since the end of the war. I figure it's punishment enough to be pitied and hated everywhere he goes." As he said this, it occurred to Zell that he really _didn't_ hate Seifer - though he couldn't say what he really _did_ feel toward him, as he definitely didn't like the ex-knight.

"I think I've had enough of talking about Seifer," Irvine said decisively, waving a hand as though to shoo the subject away. Zell drank his coffee, giving a cool shrug.

"You're the one who brought it up."

"So, how're things going with Dallia?" Irvine slipped in next, as casual as could be; Zell smiled, not about to be caught up again.

"I know you don't think I'm that stupid, Irv," he replied, "you know I can't talk about it."

"It's not like I don't know what you're here about, anyway."

"That's not the point. You gotta stop badgerin' me about stuff like this," Zell said. Irvine laughed aloud, but before he made a reply, he waved the waitress over again, and waited until she had brought back another drink for him and topped off Zell's cooling coffee before he ventured on.

"What do you think of Dallia Caraway?" he asked, dumping packets of sugar into the soda he clearly wasn't intending to actually drink. Zell gave him a stare, to which Irvine responded with a wry grin and a sigh, adding, "I'm not asking about your _mission_," he whispered the word as though it were top-secret, "which you've made it pretty clear you won't talk about. I'm just curious. What's your impression of her? Personally?"

"Oh? I dunno... I like her," Zell answered, stopping to think about it for a moment. "She's kind of eccentric, I suppose, but it seems harmless."

"That's what I thought, too," Irvine said, stirring his drink with his straw, a small mound of sugar floating atop the ice cubes. "She's very charming, don't you think? I mean, everyone seems to like her."

"Everyone except Seifer," Zell thought - only when the other man replied realizing that he'd said it out loud.

"Yeah, but who does Seifer ever like?"

_He likes me,_ was Zell's next thought, and luckily he _did_ keep this one in his head, because he felt uneasy as soon as it crossed his mind. He didn't know where it had come from, but he had a distinct memory of Seifer saying just that. But when, and why couldn't he remember it? And why would Seifer ever say such a thing in the first place?

_The beach party,_ it came to him suddenly; he'd been well past plastered that night, but he had it now - the image of Seifer, smirking, just before Zell's fist wiped the grin off his smug face. Hell, how had he forgotten that? Seifer had no doubt said it just to rile him up, but now that he'd remembered, Zell found he was pretty pissed off after the fact.

"Though to tell the truth," Irvine was saying, evidently not taking notice of the pause in the conversation, "I think he must be gettin' some. But I can't imagine who in their right mind would sleep with the guy. Do you know anything about it?"

"What makes you think that?" Zell said, spluttering sheerly in surprise at the sudden turn of conversation -_and what are you blushing for, you dolt?_ he berated himself inwardly, hoping Irvine hadn't noticed, though his heightened colour could be attributed to the fact that he had just heftily choked on his coffee. Not that he was going to tell the other man, but he was pretty damn sure Seifer was _not_ getting any - in fact, he was willing to bet he was the foremost authority on just that subject lately. Which, he decided as he mulled that thought over, was weird - he was definitely getting _way_ too familiar with all aspects of Seifer's life.

"Just... I dunno..." Irvine shrugged, thinking about it. "He's too cheery lately, don't you think?"

Zell made a face, not even able to think "Seifer" and "cheery" in the same thought with any amount of seriousness. Irvine amended, "Okay, that's the wrong word. What I mean is, he's still an ass, but it's like he's got something going on. And if he's _not_ getting laid, then I want to know what he's up to," he finished, jabbing the table resolutely with his finger.

"Then, what if he's just getting laid?"

"Then I'm just pissed off," Irvine huffed, emptying a packet of marmalade into his soda absentmindedly. "Because I'm pretty sure I'm the only one of our group that's _not_ getting some!"

Zell almost snickered, but held himself back with some effort. "No, really?" he said, keeping his face straight; the other man appeared to be genuinely miffed about this situation. "I'm surprised, I guess."

"I told you I gave all that up, man. My heart's set on my lovely Selphie," he replied with a wistful sigh.

"Oh. But, she's not...?"

"She's seein' a guy out in Trabia," Irvine muttered. Zell nodded sympathetically.

"That sucks, mate."

Both were silent then, Zell sipping at his lukewarm coffee, Irvine mixing strawberry jam into his drink and staring morosely into it. Zell thought about the cowboy's remark for a few moments. "Quistis?" he said inquisitively.

Irvine gave a weak half-shrug, looking rather depressed. "Oh, trust me, she's got it when she needs it. But it's more than my life's worth to tell you where I got _that_ information."

"Huh," was all Zell said, somewhat surprised. "Well, if it's any consolation I can guarantee you there's one of us that's not gettin' any," he added pointedly.

"No?" Irvine said, looking up. "With Miri...?"

"Got a boyfriend."

"Eww, tough luck, buddy." He spent a few moments building a tower out of empty jam packets, and after some thought, seemed to brighten up. "Well, I feel better that I'm not the only one in a dry spell. Though I do want to know what he's up to. He's got no right to be so... gleeful."

"Thought you didn't want to talk about Seifer anymore," Zell said, feeling faintly annoyed again - not least because it had occurred to him that this elevated mood of Seifer's that everyone seemed to be commenting on lately was probably mostly due to the fact that Seifer had him so close at hand to bully and mock whenever he wanted. The other man was never in a better mood than when he'd just got done thoroughly pissing Zell off. He'd almost rather that Seifer went back to the moody, morose bastard he used to be, if only so that his change in behavior would stop being so remarked on.

"That's right," Irvine said in reply, as though he'd forgotten. "I wanted to ask you - what's your take on this Estharian Garden idea?"

"Hum," Zell said, taking a drink of his coffee as he thought about his answer - whether or not Irvine was fishing after something, a loaded question like that would require a diplomatic answer regardless. "I guess I'm two ways about it. Personally, I don't think it's practical or sensible, and I don't imagine anyone is going to let her get away with it. But," he went on, rather aware of Irvine's acute interest in his opinion, "on the other hand, I think Dallia made some decent points - I think she could hold some fair water if she really put herself to it."

"You don't think she was putting herself to it yet?"

"No," he said, "why would she? I figure she was just kinda testing the waters - seeing how much she's gonna be up against, and if it's likely she'll be able to talk anyone over. Though I get the feeling that the more opposition she finds, the more determined she'll be about the whole idea. That's just my impression, though," he finished with a shrug.

Irvine was smiling, arranging his jam packets in very straight lines. "That's interesting," he said, though Zell didn't think it was much, "that's just what I think."

"Is it?"

"What do you suppose she's really up to, wanting to build a Garden?" Irvine mused.

"How should I know?" Zell replied casually. "I'm just a grunt - you and Squall are the clever ones. I leave the heavy thinking to people like you."

Irvine snorted; he knew as well as Zell did that the martial artist was much cleverer than most people gave him credit for, but the other man seemed to catch the point nevertheless. "Look, do we have to talk about work?" said Zell next, taking a drink of his cooling coffee. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."

"Yeah, you're right," Irvine said with a sigh, punching a series of holes in a spare napkin and threading the straw from his untouched drink through it. "I get carried away. It drives my PA fuckin' nuts. But sometimes I just need someone to bounce thoughts off of, y'know?"

Zell only nodded, watching the other man meticulously perch his makeshift flag atop a small fort built of jam and marmalade packets. He was thoughtfully silent as he turned in his chair and pilfered the centerpiece from the next table over to replenish his supply of marmalade. "So, what else is new since the last time we hung out?" he asked next, making small adjustments to his model. "It must be over a year, isn't it?"

"I guess. Not much. You know, same old, same old..." Zell trailed off uselessly. It hadn't even occurred to him how boring his life was until Irvine had asked him to sum it up.

"Met any nice girls?"

"Oh, plenty of them," Zell said with a wry grin, "just none that wanted to meet me back..."

"How is it a dick like Seifer can manage to get some, but two awesome guys like you and me are hopeless losers in love?" Irvine whined.

"Hey, speak for yourself, mate," Zell said defensively - though the statement was accurate enough, even if he didn't like the phrasing much. He had been feeling rather hopeless lately, for lack of a better word, but he wasn't particularly keen to discuss it with Irvine, of all people.

"We saved the world, for fuck's sake," Irvine said.

_Cripes, he's really hung up on this,_ Zell thought wearily. "Well, maybe that's your problem," he said in reply, only shrugging coolly when Irvine looked up from his diorama to shoot him a dirty glare.

"Pardon?"

"Well, what I mean is, Selphie ain't exactly a normal girl, is she?" Zell explained, while Irvine waited with an almost offensive air of attention. "Saving the world might do well enough to impress all the rest, but Selphie also saved the world, if you remember. I think you'll need to step up your game to impress her."

"I suppose I hadn't thought of it that way," Irvine mused. He studied his jam packet castle for a moment (Zell had decided that it was a castle, not a fort, on the fact that it had a tower,) very pensive, and then his disposition brightened, as though he'd had an idea. "Zell," he said, standing suddenly from his seat, grinning in a way that Zell had come to associate with trouble, "do you mind? I've got a very important call to make before I leave town."

"Nah, go on," Zell said, waving him away. He watched with some amusement as Irvine fairly skipped away, got just down the street, and then came running back to drop some cash on the table before trotting off again._What a drip,_ Zell thought, shaking his head. He finished off his coffee slowly, thinking on things - Irvine's predicament not least; self-proclaimed playboy or not, five years _was_ rather a long time to be unrequitedly in love with someone. Irvine's problem was that he had grown too used to getting things easy, that was all - his almost effortless seduction had worked so well for so long that he'd probably forgotten how to actually _work_to win someone over. Nor did Zell think that Selphie was as entirely oblivious of things around her as she pretended to be, but it seemed that as long as Irvine was unwilling to own up to his feelings, she was just as unwilling to indulge him. Well, they'd get it right eventually, Zell supposed.

_Now, if only I could get it right, as well..._ he thought morosely to himself; he drained his coffee, setting the empty cup down next to the jam castle, and stood to leave.

* * *

He wandered around down the shopping district for a while; drooled over a gorgeous pair of new studded gloves in a shop far too expensive for his budget, hit the pharmacy to stock up on potion (the way he and Seifer were going, they were more likely to need it between themselves than actually in the line of duty,) and didn't return to the hotel until well over an hour later, wondering vaguely to himself if Seifer was up yet. Judging by the state of him the night before, he'd be in a foul mood, but Zell was prepared for that - as prepared as he could be, anyway. The couch was empty when he entered the room, but Seifer wasn't out, as he saw a moment later looking around; he'd taken the bed, which rather annoyed Zell, laying on the near side with a pillow clutched over his head.

Zell slammed the door behind him, making the other man jump; he shifted the pillow to peer out from under it with a cold, menacing eye. Zell moved about the room not quietly, kicking his shoes off and tossing his shopping down to the floor and ignoring Seifer's stare, but a few moments later, when he spared a glance toward the bed again, he felt a little bad; Seifer seemed genuinely in pain, and there was something endearing about the sight of him laying there with a pillow over his head, like a child. "How ya feeling, Almasy?" he asked softly, moving toward the bed; in response, there was only a sound that may have been a curse, but was mostly a grunt. Holding back a chuckle, Zell added, "how's your ribs?"

"My ribs are fine, my head is murder," Seifer replied, finally emerging from under the pillow. He propped himself up on his elbows, rubbing his eyes, and then shot Zell a very unfriendly glare. "You were just as drunk as I was, how come you're so bright and cheery this morning?"

"Nice, fresh air; does wonders," Zell replied chipperly, echoing his Ma's oft-repeated favorite phrase. "Also, the fact that I didn't finish a whole bottle of champagne on me own probably makes a difference. This might help," he went on, moving round to the other side of the bed and pulling the shade down over the window, through which sunlight was blazing. Seifer made a noise which might have been of appreciation.

Zell came back around the bed, and rummaged through his shopping bag for a moment. "Here, potion up," he said, tossing a small vial toward the bed. Then he went into the kitchen to draw a glass of water, and brought it back to Seifer, who was now clear-headed enough to regard him with well-deserved suspicion.

"Dare I say thank you?" he said brusquely, taking the glass and sipping from it, though there was something in his expression that wasn't quite as surly as he was trying to sound. Zell only gave him a sweet smile, which heightened his suspicion.

"I just don't want to have to hear you bitch about your hangover all day," he explained, "and get off my bed. I've warned you before."

"Fine," Seifer acquiesced, apparently willing to give up this small victory to Zell. He slid rather gracelessly off the side of the bed, managing not to spill his water, but he didn't move any further than that. He definitely looked the worse for wear - Zell was reminded of the last time he had found Seifer sleeping in his bed after a bad night... well, the _only_ other time. It was only just a few weeks ago, he realized; it seemed like longer, as he thought about how much fighting they'd done between then and now. Of course, they'd been pretty much forced into each other's company a great deal more than they would have been under normal circumstances, which accounted for that. But maybe it was doing some good, as well - if nothing else, they were finally getting acclimated to each other; Zell found he could tolerate a lot more than he used to from the arrogant gunblader... though it was difficult to get angry with him when he looked so uncharacteristically dear, curled up by the side of the bed and clutching his head, hair all tousled, pouty.

"Better?" Zell inquired after a minute or two.

"Rather," Seifer replied, most of the crankiness gone from his tone. He had finished off his water, and now was rolling the cold glass over his forehead, but his voice was even enough as he added lowly, "Fuck, what possessed me to drink that? This is bloody awful."

"I'm pretty sure I said it would be a bad idea," Zell cooed, unable to resist the jab. Seifer shot him a stormy glare, a sign that, if nothing else, at least his mood was improving a bit.

"Yes, well, lots of things are a bad idea, but we do them anyway, don't we?" he murmured; Zell wasn't particularly sure if that was aimed at him, but the kiss from last night came instantly to mind as one of the many things he'd done lately that was undeniably a bad idea. He was silent, pondering on this, as Seifer uncurled, stretched, and then sat back against the bed, looking a good deal more hospitable than he had minutes ago.

They both sat in silence for a couple minutes more, before Zell worked up the nerve to speak again. It had been on his mind since his conversation with Irvine earlier that morning, but he still began with some hesitance, "can I... uh, ask you a question?"

"What kind of question?"

"Kind of an impertinent one. Don't get offended," Zell added.

"I haven't the energy," Seifer replied, waving one hand in assent. Zell shifted his position, settling on one side at the head of the bed, where he could get a clear view of the other man's expression - should he happen to go too far. He wasn't sure yet just how touchy the subject would prove.

"Okay... That time at the TV station, in Timber," he began, pausing when Seifer turned to look at him. "I told you it was impertinent," he said defensively.

"Just get on with it," Seifer growled - _at least it seems he'll hear me out,_ Zell thought, but in a moment he went on.

"Alright... Why did you go with her?" he asked flatly. He waited; Seifer turned the other way, his expression out of view, but Zell somehow had an idea that he wasn't as offended as he was pretending to be. He wondered if anyone had ever asked Seifer before, and suddenly felt a peculiar sense of pity string through him. Maybe he should have kept it to himself... but it had been nagging at him all morning since talking with Irvine; he couldn't quite explain to himself _why_ he had defended Seifer there, and maybe knowing if he was justified in doing it or not would help. "Most people are under the impression that you were possessed... you know, mind control, or whatever..."

"That's not what you think?" Seifer said challengingly.

"Well, were you?"

The other man was silent for a long minute before answering. "No," he said, slowly, but firmly, "I wasn't. I knew exactly what I was doing... even if I didn't know what the hell I was getting _into_."

"I see," Zell said, though he wasn't sure he did.

"What brought this on?"

"Just something I've been wondering for a while..." Zell trailed off. Really only two hours, but he wasn't going to confide that to Seifer, whose mood had made a smooth transition from hungover and pissed off to just plain pissed off. "So why did you then?"

There was another long pause, as though Seifer was earnestly thinking about the question, but when he turned to face Zell, his expression was stamped with irritation. "Why are you asking?" he said sharply, his tone defensive. "What do you care?"

"Just curious," Zell shot back quickly, giving a shrug that he hoped conveyed the nonchalance he was by no means feeling. He _was_ curious, as a matter of fact, now that they'd gotten on the subject, but all the same it was a little strange having such a frank conversation with Seifer. _But, did I really expect it to not be awkward?_ he thought, a bit glum. He cleared his throat, and to prevent another painful silence, he went on, "I mean... didn't anyone ever ask? Like at the trial?"

"Please," Seifer replied snidely, getting up suddenly from the floor. He staggered a bit upon standing, gathered himself, and then went toward the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. Zell waited, listening to the tap run as Seifer refilled his glass, thinking about his next plan of attack. He wasn't quite satisfied with the other man's answers yet, but if he wasn't careful, things were going to turn sour very quickly - fifteen years' experience of fighting with Seifer knew him that. This might require some diplomacy; something at which Zell had never excelled, though he _had_ gotten rather adept at handling Seifer. He chewed at the corner of his lip, and gave Seifer a few moments to cool down in the other room before speaking again.

"Don't you think someone maybe should have asked?" he called toward the kitchen. A few seconds of acute silence prevailed before Seifer stomped back into the doorway; he leaned against the frame, water glass in one hand and his arms folded tensely over his chest, his expression now somewhat past annoyed.

"I'll tell you what I think, Dincht," he said tersely, casting a very cold, unfriendly stare in Zell's direction. Despite his remarkably unkempt appearance - his hair was disheveled, his eyes framed with dark rings; the clothes he had been wearing since the day before were blood-spattered from the bar fight and had that distinctly rumpled look of having been slept in - his anger was apparent and he looked more menacing than Zell thought he'd ever seen him. He was getting to be something of an expert on pissing Seifer off, he reckoned, but they were straying into uncharted territory here - personal subjects were always touchy with the ex-knight, and entered into at one's own risk, but as far as Zell knew, no one had really ever broached the topic of Seifer's time spent as the sorceress' right hand, brief though it had been.

From Garden, only Squall and Quistis had gone to Seifer's trial, and it had never occurred to Zell to ask either of them about it before - of course, he hadn't really been interested in it before, which was kind of a disturbing thought. Maybe he _should_ have been a bit nicer.

"Yeah, someone should have asked me," Seifer continued, his tone heavy with anger and laced with bitterness, "but I didn't expect anyone to. Easier for Squall and his lackeys to convince themselves that I was possessed, then they don't have to worry about me now, wondering if I'm a danger, if I'll try to take revenge or stage some kind of a coup. None of you ever asked, because it was so convenient _not_ to."

"Hey," Zell said, getting up from the bed, feeling rather offended by that last. "I asked!"

"Five years later," Seifer bit back, stalking back into the kitchen and dumping his water down the sink, throwing the glass roughly into the basin. Zell strode across the small hotel room and reached the doorway just in time to be shoved aside as Seifer emerged from it, his expression stormy.

"Fine, so I didn't think about it much. Not 'cause I thought you were _mind-controlled_," Zell said coldly, following Seifer across the room, where he was rummaging through his clothes in the open suitcase next to the couch. "Mostly I just didn't care."

"Oh, you've suddenly developed a deep interest in my personal life?"

"No, arsehole," Zell replied, sneering. "I'm just pissed off. You're not giving Quistis and Squall enough credit. Or any of us."

Seifer didn't answer to that, only shooting a dirty look over his shoulder at Zell, who went on forcefully, "she might be fucking rotten at showing it, but Quistis is trying her hardest to do right by you - she puts a damn lot of work into helping you, despite the fact that you're such a prick-"

"That's exactly the fucking problem!" Seifer barked, throwing his clothes down on the couch, and turning to face Zell, snarling. "I don't need to be bloody babied. Everything that happened doesn't go away just because you all tell yourselves it's in the past and go about pretending I'm redeemable." He paused, and then collected himself, sighing quietly under his breath as he took a step back from Zell. "I'd rather just be blamed for what I did," he added gruffly as he turned away again, pulling his wrinkled tee-shirt off over his head, "than pretend it didn't happen."

"Well, if that's all," Zell said, scoffing. Seifer half-turned, giving him a sharp look; Zell rolled his eyes as he went on, "that's the stupidest fuckin' thing I've ever heard! What's there to blame? It was a war. Everyone has to take a side, and some people are bound to take the wrong one. Whatever else you did aside, there's no blame in that. You picked a side. It was just a choice," he finished, feeling more annoyed now than angry; was that what Seifer had had his panties in a twist about all this time?

The other man was staring at him with a strange expression - if Zell didn't know better, he might have said it was relief; but Seifer looked away too quickly for him to be sure. He tossed his old shirt carelessly into the corner, gathering up his clean clothes from the pile on the couch.

"A bloody stupid choice, still," Zell added coolly, smirking a little.

"I'm through talking about this," Seifer said curtly, moving around Zell toward the bathroom, not meeting his gaze. Zell stepped neatly to the side, blocking him off.

"Well, I'm not done with it yet-" he began, but before he could even think up the rest of that thought, Seifer turned quickly, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pushing him backwards; his back hit the wall and he lost his breath for a moment - there was more force behind the action than he'd expected - but he let Seifer hold him there, catching and holding the other's gaze - their faces were so close that Zell could see the blue flecks in Seifer's green eyes, and that his cheeks were dusted with colour (from anger, Zell hoped; otherwise he might have got himself in some trouble here.) He was breathing sharply, his knuckles white as he grasped Zell by his shirtfront; his expression, however, was vague - Zell thought he looked as though he wanted to say something, but even after a minute or two, he was silent.

"You haven't answered my first question yet," Zell broke the quiet to remark, unable to help grinning a little as he cocked a challenging eyebrow at Seifer. Like a thunderhead breaking, Seifer's face changed - fury smoothed out and replaced by the much more familiar stoicism that Zell knew. His grip on Zell's shirtfront slackened, but he remained not inches away, returning the challenge in full as he stared Zell down.

"Just like you said," he finally answered, his voice even and cool as ever. "It was a war. I picked a side. It was the wrong one."

"See, that wasn't so hard," Zell cooed sarcastically.

"Hmm," was all Seifer said in response, now looking thoughtful as he stared down at Zell, who was starting to grow uncomfortable. The fight aside, it was definitely weird to be so close to Seifer - he would have thrown the other man off, but Seifer still had a hand in his shirt, and he himself had no shirt to grab, only chest... very fine chest, true, but Zell wasn't sure it would be a good idea to manhandle him considering what was lately tending to happen after they had an altercation.

He considered for a moment, never breaking Seifer's stare. Seifer's right side would still be weak from his injury the night before - Zell swerved to that side, but Seifer was ready for him; he stepped forward, pinning Zell back against the wall, one arm on either side of him, and the martial artist was too taken aback by such an adept maneuver to register that Seifer was moving in until it was too late. He briefly contemplated resisting, but what was really the point? The more he tried to fight Seifer, the more the gunblader was going to bully his way in; it was clear that, whatever his real motive for all this madness, Seifer wasn't about to give up. Where was the harm, really, in succumbing? _Bloody everywhere, that's what!_ he thought to himself, but he pushed it out of mind; yes, it was really fucking wrong, and there were a million and one reasons why he shouldn't be letting Seifer get away with this - oh, who was he kidding? He wanted this and badly; he could parade denial all he wanted to everyone else, but he couldn't lie to himself. Seifer was kissing him and it was_brilliant_.

If he was expecting the kiss to be an attack, he was rather surprised - pleasantly - by a much gentler touch than he'd come to expect from the gunblader; of course, if it wasn't an attack, then he didn't know what it_was_, because why else would Seifer kiss him at all? _Perhaps because it feels so very nice,_ he concluded dreamily; and it really did... Seifer's arm had slipped down behind his back, the other flat against the wall as he leaned in toward Zell, his tongue coaxing its way past Zell's lips. His breath hitched as Seifer's hand wandered further down, coming to rest in the small of his back, and with a swift movement, the other man pulled him in, bringing their bodies together, his chest - very warm, mmm, _bare_ chest - flush against Zell.

He reached up with one arm and hooked it around Seifer's shoulders, mostly to keep himself from losing his balance, although the contact did press them even closer, which was not bad at all. He threaded a hand through Seifer's hair, pushing up toward him. Where did Seifer get off being such an amazing kisser? Not that Zell was an expert on the subject or anything; he'd had Seifer's fighting kisses, and his drunken ones, but this now was something altogether different. He was rapidly losing the will or desire to put a stop to what was going to happen if this kept on.

It was a good thing Seifer had a proper hold on him; his knees had begun to feel distinctly weak as he fought rather a losing battle for control against the gunblader, whose tongue was skillfully putting a quick end to any thought processes Zell's brain tried to start up. Zell was just beginning to wonder if maybe he hadn't been too paranoid, denying himself this as adamantly as he had, when Seifer's knee slipped between his legs, parting them, and a flash of panic flooded him like ice water: what the hell was he doing? He yanked hard on Seifer's hair, trying to pull away, but it was still a moment before he could dislodge the other man, who looked, underneath an expression that Zell could only call sated, a bit peeved at having his hair pulled. Zell only hoped that he looked angrier than he felt; as firm as he was in deciding that this had not, after all, been a good idea, he found he was a bit disappointed, not least at the termination of what was arguably one of the best kisses of his life. He glared up at Seifer, whose triumphant smirk confirmed Zell's fear that he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Stop doing that!" he said gruffly, pushing away from the other.

"Stop letting me," Seifer came back just as quickly, but he moved away, allowing Zell to slide out from between him and the wall, but not with enough room to avoid brushing against him as he did. Zell only scowled, and snatched up the clothes from the couch, flinging them with a vengeance at Seifer, who continued to grin as he moved into the bathroom. Zell watched him go, afraid to even turn his back until the other man was safely shut in another room. Then he sank, weak-kneed, onto the couch, his heart thumping madly against his chest - _from the adrenaline, the fight_, he tried to tell himself; but it was as thin a lie as he'd ever tried to pass off.

"Where does he come up with such... bloody good arguments...?" he muttered pointlessly to himself, sighing dramatically.


	16. Chapter 16

"...So then I said, 'Which do you prefer, chicken or fish?'" Dallia finished with a chirpy little laugh, and the whole group burst out laughing - even the General managed a rather thin smile, which surprised Seifer; he hadn't thought Caraway's face capable. But then, it had been a pretty funny joke - not something he could say about most of the conversations he'd been having at Dallia's parties - he even allowed himself a chuckle, which earned him an arch eyebrow from the lady of the hour. She gave him a look as the group dispersed that he suspected meant he'd be facing an interrogation later, but even the thought of it didn't bother him.

His good humor lately was more than likely the subject of her curiosity, but he was in too nice a mood to care. It was the sixteenth night of their stay in Deling City - just knowing that this horrid trip was more than half over was heartening enough... though admittedly, the second week had been a great deal more pleasant than the first. He'd made out with Zell no less than three more times this week, which brought the grand total to five since coming to Deling City, and that wasn't even counting the incident on the train. This mission was, at least, turning out to be a personal success for Seifer, even if it wasn't a professional one - try as they might, neither he nor Zell had seen the the merest sign of anything suspicious being plotted against Dallia... although Seifer was inclined to think that the complete lack of hostile behavior toward her was suspicious in itself, considering the fact that she was still pitching her Estharian Garden idea.

She was certainly living up to that famous - perhaps, infamous - charm of hers. The consternation caused by her Garden proposal appeared to have been completely and obtrusively forgotten by all parties involved - even the Trabian headmaster, whom Seifer had been afraid was on the verge of apoplexy at that lunch, he'd been so furious. To her own credit, Dallia had been quiet on the subject more than anyone, but Seifer had the feeling she was only regrouping; drawing in her claws and concentrating on her next plan of attack. To the casual eye, she appeared to have let it go, instead thoroughly engaged in her parties and the various entertainments she'd been providing for the top ring of Galbadian society for the past fortnight - just this week, Seifer had been to two luncheons, a tea, a movie premiere, and a day trip on a yacht, and to tell the truth, he was plain worn out; how anyone could sustain this kind of lifestyle day to day was beyond him. But at least they were free for the weekend, after tonight's party, and Seifer fully planned to take advantage of the two whole days off to spend some quality time with Zell, providing the martial artist was amenable to the idea.

He was just working out the finer points of his game plan when someone approached, and he turned to find one of the last people he expected to see, to his pleasant surprise. "I won't bother to ask what you're plotting, since I'm sure you won't tell me," Fuujin began, standing calmly beside him as though she'd been there all the while. "But whatever it is, let me tell you, I don't approve."

"Why, hello, Fuu. How lovely to see you again. I've been very well, thanks for asking," Seifer replied in a dry tone.

"Don't be smart with me," she replied.

"I won't if you won't," he shot back. "Why is it that the first thing out of your mouth whenever you see me is an accusation?"

"Maybe if it wasn't so ridiculously _obvious_ that you're up to something," she said. Seifer scratched his chin, dropping his grin in in favor of a thoughtful frown.

"Oh," he said. "Is it?"

"I could see your stupid smile from the other side of the room," Fuujin remarked, but her tone was purely teasing, and she granted him with a tight smile that, to her credit, didn't look nearly as grudgingly given as Seifer knew it was.

"So what are you doing here?"

"Working," she replied with a sigh and a shrug, "always working. The official pretext is 'promoting good relations between states' or some such bullshit, but I'm pretty sure the real reason Squall sent me out here was to check up on your and your partner..." she trailed off, joining Seifer in watching said partner on the far side of the room, where Zell appeared to be telling a story to a small group of Galbadian SeeDs who were gradually moving ever away from his exuberant hand gestures.

"Hm," was all Seifer said in response, knowing she was waiting for one. He played at silence for a good few minutes before she got fed up and turned to face him again, one fist raised as if she were about to deck him - possibly a subconscious action, but he took a step back in caution nonetheless.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Well what?"

"How are things... going?" she asked, her expression suggesting she was choosing her words with care. Seifer worded his answer with equal discretion.

"Oh, just as expected."

"Just as Squall might have expected, or just as _you_ did?"

Seifer chuckled - not that he was trying, but nothing went past her. "Probably some of both," he answered, which was relatively true, but didn't seem to assuage Fuujin's suspicion any, and as well it shouldn't; he certainly had been up to no good, and with some luck was going to be up to even less in the near future. He wasn't, however, going to admit that to her. "Speaking of partners..."

She scoffed, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "Please, it's not as though we're a matched set. I'm on solo; I don't know what he's doing."

Seifer only nodded, not failing to notice that his inquiry had annoyed her. "Fuujin," he began again, turning to look properly at her - he didn't know how he'd missed it before, but she was looking remarkably pretty tonight, and that certainly wasn't a word he'd use liberally in regard to his friend; the last time someone had called Fuujin "pretty", she'd nearly broken the offender's leg with one of her kicks. A dark green velvet cocktail dress complimented her fair skin and fairer hair in just the right way, particularly in contrast with the striking colour of her eye; if it weren't for the scowl on her face, which promised of violence as though she could read Seifer's thoughts at the moment, he could almost see what Raijin had found in her to fall in love with.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said, trying not to smile. "I was just thinking, you look rather lovely tonight."

She scoffed again, but didn't look nearly as offended as he had expected. "What, aren't I allowed to get dolled up once in a while?" she replied back, even deigning to show an amused half-smile. Seifer was just marveling over that when, clearly not intending to give up the topic, she went on, "so, then... how are things going with Dincht?"

"Personally, or professionally?" Seifer said before he could censor himself; judging by the look she gave him next, which could have burned a hole through sheet metal, his sarcasm had gone unappreciated.

"I wasn't aware you were making a distinction," she said coolly.

"It was a joke."

"The thing is, I can't always tell these days," she said, giving him the eye.

"If you _really_ must know, Fuu, things are just about the same as they've always been. We don't get on at all. It's mostly fighting. Are you happy now?" he finished snippily, hoping his tone would hide the fact that he was blatantly lying - well, they were still fighting, that much was true, but things most certainly weren't the same as they'd always been, and Seifer didn't have a particular desire for them _to_ be. Truth be told, he was rather enjoying the admittedly strange direction his relationship with Zell was taking, rocky though the path was - hey, the challenge was what made it fun. But he didn't expect Fuujin to understand that. "And speaking of partners," Seifer said again.

"We weren't speaking of partners. We were speaking of your weird infatuation with Dincht."

"In any case," he went on, ignoring her choice of words, which he didn't particularly like, but couldn't exactly refute. "Do you know Raijin thinks he's in love with you?"

"Of course I know. What do you take me for?" she scoffed, offended, evidently, by the indication that she wasn't absolutely aware of everything that went on around her at all times. "Don't think that changing the subject is just going to work like that."

"I wasn't trying to. I'm genuinely curious," Seifer replied, a half-truth at least. "What are you going to do about it?"

Her expression crumpled with a displeased expression, and she turned to face him directly, casting a searching look over him. He wasn't quite sure if she was going to answer him or not, but she merely waited for a few moments, her face pinched severely as she snatched up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. "What do you mean?" she said eventually, sipping her drink over an expression that suggested the glass may have been filled with arsenic. "What am I going to do? Why do I have to do anything?"

"Fuu?"

"Just because the great idiot thinks he's in love with me, why does that make it my problem? It's his issue," she elaborated, her tone cold. "Until he does something about it to _make_ it my problem, I don't care. Why should I coddle him just because he's got some ridiculous idea in his head?"

"Huh," Seifer replied.

"'Huh'. Is that all you have to say?"

"Well," he said, "that's pretty harsh, but I guess it's just like you."

"Thank you," Fuujin said with a slight nod, though he hadn't intended it as a compliment. "Now. Since we've got that out of the way, can we get back to you?"

"If we absolutely must," he muttered.

She paused as a group of people passed close by, several of them nodding to Seifer, who managed to return the gesture with a neutral expression, despite the annoyance. Being here for three weeks was taking a toll on his social life; people were starting to be _familiar_ with him. Fuujin noted this with a sadistic smile. "You're making quite an impact on the Galbadian social scene."

"I've got to wonder who thought Dincht and I would be a good undercover unit," Seifer mused, not for the first time. "We're both recognizable, aren't we?"

"_He_ might be okay if he weren't so loud-mouthed," his companion noted. "_You_... you're just infamous."

Despite her tone, the remark didn't sound to Seifer like an insult, and he grinned. Her next comment, however, was entirely at the other end of the spectrum. "Are you in love with Dincht?"

"Am I _what_?" he sputtered, glad he hadn't been holding a drink - he might have spit it out all over her. Of course, Fuujin had always been blunt, often to the point of rudeness, but she usually left his love life well alone (assuming she believed he had one, which he hadn't for rather some time.) He gave her the same courtesy, though in honesty, her love life wasn't something he could remember ever having given a thought to in all the years they'd known each other. Regardless, to come out and ask like that - she was trying to catch him off guard with her directness, and it had very nearly worked. He managed to retain his smile, and momentarily enjoyed the disquieting effect such a reaction was causing her.

"You heard me."

"I can't believe you asked me that."

"You're avoiding answering me," she said.

"Because the question is so ridiculous as to border on insane," he replied. To this, she responded with another smile, and Seifer felt an unpleasant chill.

"The fact that you're avoiding is enough of an answer," she said coolly, looking part amused and part incredulous, but at least not angry. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting, and he didn't speak for a minute, waiting for further response, but it seemed that was all he was to receive. He spent a few moments wondering over the fact that, after all the grief she had been giving him about bullying Zell lately, she apparently cared not at all that he had just as much as admitted he was in love with Zell. If anything, she looked as if she found it funny, which was somewhat bewildering.

She turned away again as a waiter passed by, depositing her empty glass on his tray and plucking two more up, one of which she handed to Seifer as she faced him again. "Not drinking?" she prompted a moment later, sipping her own.

"Aren't you working?"

"Pssh," she waved the comment away. "This is practically a holiday. I haven't been out of Garden in two weeks," she said in a tone that clearly spoke of the grudge she was still holding against whoever's fault it was. Then, in a lighter tone, she added, "All I've got to do is report to Squall that you two haven't killed each other yet. So far, so good, I think."

"You're becoming one of them," Seifer remarked, biting back a smirk as she looked at him sharply. "Admit it. You've been forced to attend all these stupid parties and social events for so long that you _like_ it. You're a socialite."

"I am _not_," she replied, her tone sounding deeply offended, but her expression showing somewhat otherwise. If Seifer had to guess, he'd say she was only protesting for pride's sake, but he wasn't going to test her temper by running the idea by her. "I mean," she continued with a huff, "I won't say I entirely _dislike_ it. There are worse things I could be doing as a SeeD..." she trailed off, casting a sideways glance over Seifer. Her look said it, even if she didn't: she could be doing what he'd been doing for the past few years, which was essentially nothing at all. She and Raijin had come out of the war relatively well despite their enduring loyalty to him, due probably to their defection at Lunatic Pandora, but still there had been a lot of disapproving muttering when they fairly quickly went back to work at Garden, and to have got to the generally well-respected position she was in now was rather well done, Seifer had always thought. Certainly, the both of them had done a lot better than he had in five years (though, of course, attitude probably factored in there somewhere.)

"That's true," he said. "You could be working with Dincht."

"Well, you seem to be enjoying it," she shot back, quick as a whip.

Seifer smiled, taking a drink of his champagne. "You're in an unusually good mood, I think."

"Why is it unusual?"

"Considering how much shit you've been giving me about bullying Dincht-"

"That's different," she stated, giving him a rather annoyingly superior look. "If you're just hassling him to be a jerk, then I certainly don't approve. But, see, if you're in love with Dincht-"

"Please, can you not say that out loud?" he interrupted, grimacing. "Ever again?"

"Alright, alright," she agreed, and for a few moments, was silent. She seemed thoughtful, and then took a step closer to him, her voice low and secretive when she spoke again. "Look," she said, in a quiet and almost sheepish tone, "I'm going to get sappy for just a moment here. I don't know where in hell this..." she paused, making strange gestures with her hands, and then, evidently unable to come up with an appropriate word to describe just what "this" was, went on, "..._this_ came from, and to be honest, it weirds me out a little. But you seem to be happy, and in the end, that's all that really matters about it. You haven't had enough happiness these past few years, and I certainly won't begrudge you this small bit of it. Even if it is... strange," she finished, her mouth pinched in distaste.

She moved back again, trying her best not to look embarrassed, while Seifer marveled over this declaration. Clearly she was trying to be supportive, and while he suspected that he might leave this conversation with bruises if he laughed, he couldn't help smiling a little at her uncharacteristic chagrin. It was in weird times like this that he was reminded why Fuujin was his best friend. Forgoing the sarcasm that he usually relied on in awkward situations like this, he instead replied simply, with actual sincerity, "Thanks, Fuu. That's awfully... considerate."

"Well, now we've got that out of the way, let's never speak of it again," she said gruffly, drinking her champagne with a scowl. Seifer resisted the urge to give her a squeeze; he wasn't often sentimental, but if anything brought it out in him, it was Fuujin being likewise. "Anyway, I think you're wanted," she added, nodding toward the other direction, from which Zell was approaching, looking slightly harried and a bit uneasy. Seifer straightened, pulling a blank face; he noted Fuujin doing the same. Luckily they had been speaking quietly, and Zell was too far away to have likely heard anything, but his agitated expression as he came up to them wasn't exactly reassuring, either.

"Fuujin," he greeted her somewhat curtly. "Wow, you look... very nice."

"Why, thank you, Dincht." She flashed him a smile so dazzling that both Seifer and Zell were speechless from momentary shock at the sight of it. _Good grief, she's charming him,_ Seifer thought, with an unpleasant feeling that such a thing could only end badly. Luckily, she excused herself from the two of them before Zell could recover enough to make a comment that would probably earn him a well-bruised shin.

"She feeling alright?" he asked, watching her walk away.

"What did you want, Dincht?"

"Oh, right," Zell said, as if just remembering. "Have you seen Dallia?"

"What do you mean, have I seen her?" Seifer asked sharply, looking round the room. A quick scan of the crowd showed the guest of honor nowhere in attendance. "Shit, she was just here a second ago, wasn't she?"

"I know, I turned my back for like a minute, and I don't know where she's gone," Zell replied, huffing. "I've been round the whole room and she's definitely not here. I thought you mighta known if she slipped out somewhere."

"No," Seifer said, now feeling aggravated. He had only, really, been keeping half an eye on Dallia, but trust her to vanish just as he had a lapse. Of course, he didn't really think she was in danger or anything - more than likely she'd only ran off to the toilet or something, but if her husband noticed her gone and they weren't on top of it, they'd never hear the end of it. "Where's Caraway?"

"Occupied at the moment," Zell said, gesturing toward the far side of the room, where the General was standing in conversation with a few equally grave and humorless-looking men. "But not for long, I'd say."

"Alright, look," Seifer sighed, taking a quick mental inventory of the room's exits - the front door was well blocked by a hefty crowd of people; but in any case, if Dallia wanted to slip out, for whatever reason, she wasn't going to use the main door; she'd be sneaky about it. He tried to remember the layout of the plaza. "You take the east wing corridor, and I'll take the west. If Caraway asks you, she's with me, got it?"

"Okay, sure," Zell replied, though not without looking a bit peeved at Seifer giving him orders. He gave Seifer a long look, but wandered away after a moment, either not willing or realizing that this was the wrong place to take him up - which was fortunate, as Fuujin was still rather nearby, mingling with some other guests but not without one ear turned toward them; the last thing he needed was for her to overhear Zell lecturing him. The ammunition would last her weeks. She was trying to catch his eye as he subtly worked his way toward the exit, but he managed to evade her; he'd pay for it the next time they met, though, he was certain of that by the sly look she was giving him.

The corridor was empty when he reached it, and the couple of rooms he poked his head into down the way were likewise. He stopped halfway down the hall and gave a frustrated sigh, trying to formulate some kind of a plan. He didn't have time to go searching every empty room in this stupid hotel. Besides, it was more likely that Dallia would be close; she wouldn't want to stray too far from her party. Seifer tried to think. If it were him, where would he go to hide?

He stared blankly at the opposite wall, watching the gold brocade curtains fluttering in the breeze that was coming in from somewhere. Damn the woman anyway. He wouldn't be at all surprised if she had skipped out just to lead him and Zell on a wild goose chase. It would be just like her; she seemed to find great amusement in toying with them, which was evident by this whole sorry scam of a mission they'd been sent on. He wondered bitterly if Squall had known what he was sending them into when he decided on Seifer for the assignment - maybe their fearless leader _did_ have a sense of humor after all.

He went up and down the corridor again, feeling irritated. Dallia was nowhere to be seen, but he still didn't want to rejoin the party in the ballroom just yet. Maybe Zell had found her - unlikely. He sighed, pacing shortly in front of the wide double windows, the wind pleasantly warm on the back of his neck. It was a nice change from the soul-suckingly hot Timber summer, which he hadn't been at all disappointed to leave behind. Garden would be on its way back to Balamb by now; in two weeks, when he and Zell went back, it would be just coming on the end of summer - a great time to be in Balamb. Maybe he could wrangle some vacation time; just a week off would be enough, to lay on the beach, maybe do some fishing...

He leaned against the wall, just out of the breeze. There was a familiar smell in the air; something he couldn't quite place, but made him feel nostalgic. It made him think of being a teenager again: stalking around with Fuujin and Raijin, enjoying the feeling of power as they exercised their authority over those smaller and weaker... or, in Zell's case, those who merely _looked_ smaller and weaker. Zell had been such an amusing contradiction - such a stickler for rules and regulations, yet so air-headed that he too often acted before he thought, which made him a perfect victim for Seifer's Disciplinary Committee. Seifer smiled to himself. Perhaps he could get Zell to go on holiday with him...

He was halfway through a rather entertaining fantasy involving a deserted island and a very sand-caked Zell when his mind finally caught up with itself, and a thought occurred. He looked round. The hallway was utterly deserted; the only movement to be seen was that of the curtains as they swayed gently in the breeze that was coming through the slightly ajar patio doors, which were being held open with a small brick that Seifer imagined had come from somewhere outside. The curtains had been drawn so that the open door would be unnoticeable, unless of course there was a nice summer breeze coming through, just as there was. If it were him, where would he go to hide? Out on the balcony to sneak a smoke, of course - he grinned; perhaps Mrs. Caraway was not quite the pretty polished picture she made herself to be.

He went to the door and managed to slide through to the outside without Dallia hearing; her back was to him, which he thought was unwise of her. She was leaning against the balustrade with her chin resting on one hand, a cigarette in the other, staring out over the decorative pond that backed the hotel. "Slipping out of your own party for a fag?" he said after a moment, his voice quiet but still enough to startle her. "Not very good host of you, is it?"

"My goodness," she said, recovering from her rather ungainly spin-around upon his announcement, and drawing herself up, making no effort to hide the cigarette in her hand. _At least she knows when she's caught out,_ Seifer thought. She gave him a wry smile, smoothing the front of her dress as she continued, "You're very good, I must say. I was giving you five more minutes before you even noticed me gone."

"You don't put much stock by SeeDs, is that it?" he replied, making sure the brick was in place before letting the door swing away behind him. He moved toward the edge of the patio, leaning casually against the balustrade. She turned to face the pond again.

"Not so. I just happened to notice you were... distracted," she said teasingly. Seifer didn't deign to answer to that; they stood in silence for a minute or two, broken only by the quiet sound of Dallia smoking. "Join me?" she said, drawing to the end of her cigarette and pulling a pack out of her jewel-encrusted clutch bag. She lit a fresh one and then offered the pack to Seifer, who accepted, wondering how this moment could get any more surreal.

"Shouldn't you get back to your party?" he asked, lighting up. She waved the remark right by.

"They won't miss me. I'll just have one more," she declared.

"Your husband?"

"I left him chatting with some old war pals," she said, showing her teeth in a grin. "By the time I get back to his side, he won't have even noticed I'm missing."

Seifer made no reply, but something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression, because Dallia's smirk grew wider. "You don't like me much at all, do you?"

"Well, since you're asking, no, I don't," he answered after a moment, but looking away. There was no point in being coy; she wouldn't have asked the question if she didn't already know, and since his answer didn't seem to bother her one way or the other, it wasn't worth lingering on. She continued to smile, apparently nothing but amused by him.

"I wonder why that is," she said next, but Seifer didn't think she sounded particularly curious. Her tone, quiet and secretive, made him uneasy; she always spoke to him as though they were supposed to be sharing some kind of private joke, only he wasn't playing along. Everyone he had watched her interact with over the past fortnight had been promptly and effortlessly charmed by her, and yet he couldn't help thinking that she was only playing a game - toying with the lot of them, and allowing him to watch the spectacle from the sidelines.

"Do you?" he said, deciding to challenge her. She turned, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I thought you were sharper than that."

Her smile thinned, and she settled back against the wall, one hand dangling over the edge of the railing, her cigarette perched between two slight fingers. "We're too much alike, you and I, I think," she said eventually, and he must have made a face, because she began to laugh, and for a moment seemed as if she couldn't stop. "What an expression," she said when she had calmed down, still grinning as she puffed on her cigarette. "You don't agree?"

Seifer blew out a slow cloud of smoke, trying to read her expression. It wasn't that he disagreed, but rather, he simply hated the idea of it; he wasn't, however, planning to tell her that. As there were any number of things she could be referring to, he decided to play it safe and, feigning ignorance, replied, "not at all. I think we couldn't be more different."

"You're quite wrong," she said matter-of-factly, as though there could be no two ways about it. She didn't go on, and Seifer spent the next few moments wondering if she was going to explain herself at all; but at length, finishing off her cigarette and tossing the stub out into the water with a deft flick of the wrist, she turned to address him again, amusement playing at the corners of her lips. "I'll tell you what I mean," she announced, opening her bag and rummaging through it. "We're both confident people. We know exactly what we want, and just how to go about getting it."

Again, he didn't answer, drawing on the last of his cigarette, while Dallia pulled a tiny mirror and a tube of lipstick from her bag and began reapplying. Still not entirely sure what she was getting at, he finally replied, "I wouldn't have put it that way."

"No?"

"I think you're just conniving," he said. Dallia was still for a moment, and then she snapped her lipstick shut briskly, replacing it in her bag as she gave him a dubious look.

"I'm sorry, who's calling whom conniving? Might I ask what's going on with you and that partner of yours?" she shot back, flashing him a sparkly pink grin. Seifer blinked, feeling caught by surprise. They held a brief staring contest, which he sheepishly lost. Well, she wasn't wrong - he'd been scheming against Zell for weeks, and it was purely stupid to have thought she wouldn't notice, as astute as she was; and being the consummate sneak she was, she'd probably colored him as a peer right from the start. _If she just wasn't so damn annoying, I could rather like her,_ he thought privately.

"Fair point," he admitted, refusing to turn away; she was still watching him with glee, her lips glimmering in the dim light.

"Oh, you're just going to come out and admit it? How boring," she gave a dramatic sign, shaking her head as if to say it was such a shame. "I was looking forward to having to trick it out of you."

"And still claim not to be conniving," he said coolly.

"I never said that. I just think it's hypocritical of you not to admit you're the same," she twittered.

"Shouldn't you be getting back now?" Seifer said by way of reply.

Dallia chuckled, clearly amused at such a weak attempt to steer the conversation. "But this is so much fun," she said cheekily, giving him a secretive look. "I told Fury to request the best Garden could send, but I never dreamed I'd get such a pair as the two of you. It's better than telly, watching you two. I'll have to thank dear Squally for sending me such wonderful entertainment."

She peered into her compact, arranging her hair with a contented smile, while Seifer spent a moment deciding just which bit of that he wanted to seize on. She'd just as well as admitted she'd hired SeeDs out as playmates, which was what he'd suspected all along. If Seifer had been almost close to liking her just a moment ago, he was well over it now. "You must be very well acquainted," he said coolly, watching her fuss with a piece of fringe that refused to lay flat, making a moue of irritation into her mirror.

"What do you mean?"

"You and _dear Squally_," he elaborated.

She paused, and then slowly shut her compact, giving him a sly sideways look, in reply to which he grinned. "Oh, don't you give me that look," she said peevishly, stuffing the mirror back down into her handbag. "It was simply a slip of the tongue."

"I daresay."

"In fact we've never met," she explained, but the flash of annoyance was gone, and she seemed amused once more. A moment later, Seifer understood as she added, "but I have heard _all_ about your amazing commander from Rin."

"I see," Seifer murmured, and then smirked. It was a relief to know he wasn't the only one his ex-girlfriend had saddled with a humiliating nickname, though luckily for him, she hadn't, at least as far as he knew, ever mentioned "Seify-weify" to anyone. He wasn't certain which one of them had gotten off better.

"You mustn't ever repeat that to anyone," Dallia continued, but her expression was so patently lacking in remorse that he figured she was just saying it for the sake of discretion. "I can't even believe I said it."

"I can't make any promises," he answered.

"I mean it! Rinoa will _murder_ me if she hears it. She's a frightening girl," Dallia added, almost as an afterthought. Seifer didn't say anything in response to this, but his expression must have said enough, because she chuckled. "Have we a deal, then? You won't mention my little slip of the tongue, and I'll try not to have any more little slips, like, say, in front of your partner?"

Seifer gritted his teeth, trying to keep a neutral face. Conniving? She was downright unscrupulous. She had him by the throat now, and it was clear by her expression of glee that quite knew it. The best he could do by cutting his end of the "deal", in any case, would be to embarrass Squall - which he was fully planning on doing anyway, make no mistake - meanwhile, Dallia potentially held his position at Garden, his very career in her petulant, petite, Basil Street lacquered claws - and worse, his carefully cultivated relationship with Zell, which no amount of seduction technique or sweet-talking would recover should she happen to whisper any little bits of information about Seifer's scheming in the martial artist's direction. She wasn't threatening to rat him out to Zell as revenge for anything he might do to her first - no, she'd do it for no reason at all, for amusement, or just if the fancy took her. Seifer managed a smile as he remembered with full force just why he hated Dallia.

"Getting back?" he asked once more.

"We'd better, hadn't we?" she agreed, but not without a huffy sigh, as though to say her fun had been spoiled. "I'll head in first, shall I? Bit suss if we return together, I think."

She inched the door open and peeked through, checking diligently up and down the hallway before declaring it safe for reentry and slipping back inside with all the ease of someone very accustomed to subterfuge. Seifer listened to the sound of her heels clicking on the marble down the corridor, and then it was quiet again. He resisted the urge to hit something with some effort - the only object nearby was a large stone planter in the rather gaudy shape of a dragon, and he didn't much feel like returning to the party with bleeding knuckles. Didn't much feel like returning at all, if it came down to it.

The woman was infuriating. Seifer had known some unpleasant women in his time (to make the understatement of the century,) but Dallia Caraway was rapidly climbing to the top of that list with all the finesse of a lifelong mountaineer. Of course, he hadn't liked her from the start, but hadn't then had a reason for such antipathy; after spending two weeks getting to know her, he had plenty of reasons now. He raked a hand through his hair, leaning against the balustrade and working to regain his cool - a task that was becoming increasingly more difficult the more time he spent with Dallia, but that was, at least, facilitated by the lack of her immediate presence. She really brought out the worst in him, that was certain. It wouldn't be so bad, he reflected, if they could hate each other mutually; but she actually _enjoyed_ knowing that she put him so on edge.

He stayed outside a few minutes more, longer than was probably wise - he knew he should be getting back to the party; Zell would be having fits across the ballroom seeing Dallia return without Seifer's escort - but he needed to clear his head, which had been, these past weeks, decidedly muddy. It was all, he decided after a couple minutes' thought on the subject, Zell's fault. Seifer had spent his whole life, for the most part, being relatively clear-headed, except when it came to Zell. _Well, I guess it's okay,_ he thought to himself in conclusion, kicking the brick back across the patio and edging through the double doors, shutting them behind him and replacing the curtains so that nothing looked out of place. After all, he thought, grinning, he had a fair few ideas in mind for how Zell could go about making reparations some time...

* * *

If looks could kill, Seifer would be cold in his grave hours past; luckily, he managed to stay out of Zell's way for the remainder of the party, though from the scathing glares he was getting from the other side of the room, he'd be in for a ripping earful when Zell caught up with him later. He wasn't so fortunate, however, as to make it through the rest of the night avoiding Fuujin, as well; and though she kept to her word to not broach subjects uncomfortable, the look she was giving him was enough to assure him that he'd be thoroughly grilled on all aspects of his trip just as soon as he got back to Garden. "I'll be in town until Sunday," she said, pulling him into a corner for a private word as Dallia's guests were beginning to filter out of the room. "Give me a ring if you're not busy, and we'll make a date or something."

She really must have been feeling bad about being so mean to him up until now, Seifer decided, or she wouldn't be acting so nice. "What are you doing here until Sunday? Hitting up the Deling City social scene some more, I imagine?"

She gave him a dirty look, but let the remark slide; she didn't even hit him, which was a sure sign that she was feeling guilty about harping on him so much. "Hopefully _not_," she said tersely, but despite this protest, her expression suggested she might not be exactly opposed should she happen to wander into another party during the course of the weekend. Seifer bit his tongue; he'd gotten away clean with one snarky comment, but he didn't suppose he'd be so lucky as to pass another one by her. "I haven't got any plans so far," Fuujin continued. "To be honest, I think I'm only here so long as I am because Squall can't justify two six hour train rides sending me here and back for just one evening. I'm calling it a short holiday, in any case."

"Hm," Seifer said. "Well, I'll let you know if I'm free..."

He trailed off under the scrutinizing look she was casting over him. "You're clearly not planning on being free," she said, but her tone was less accusatory than it was amused.

"Like I said, I'll let you know," he repeated with a grin, and Fuujin made a face.

"Ugh. Fine. I'll plan on seeing you back at Garden," she announced, shaking her head and giving him a look that said _why do I put up with you again?_ He merely smiled, and she turned to leave without replying, muttering mutinously under her breath, no doubt about him and his strange and unholy fascinations. In spite of this, Seifer had a sneaking suspicion that she was pleased for him, somewhere deep down, though she'd never admit it, and he wasn't going to test her temper any more than he had already tonight by mentioning it. He watched her fondly as she walked away, hoping even more than he had been that he'd have something satisfactory to report to her upon his return in two weeks - after all, she had put an awful lot of work into being kind to him about the situation.

He waited until the last of the guests were filing out before leaving himself - the host and hostess were thankfully nowhere to be seen - and he caught up with Zell in the corridor outside, where the martial artist started in without delay, "where the hell were you?"

"Just chatting with Fuu."

"Not that. I mean _earlier_," Zell hissed, keeping his voice low, though the hall was all but deserted. "With Dallia. Where'd you find her?"

"Out on the balcony, getting some fresh air. Why are you so worked up?" Seifer replied.

"What were you two up to?"

He gave Zell a probing look. The other man was regarding him with a wary, suspicious look that Seifer couldn't quite make out. Why was Zell so curious? "We weren't _up to_ anything," he answered finally, trying to sound disdainful, and by Zell's increasingly annoyed expression, succeeding in at least that. "She needed a break from her party. I found her outside, and she made me keep her company for a while. She was babbling on the whole time. Then we came back in."

Zell didn't look entirely convinced by this admittedly very simplified version of things. "Why was she givin' me funny looks then?" he asked next.

"Cause you're funny?" Seifer offered; this was evidently not the correct answer, as Zell's expression darkened. "Look, what are you so worked up about?" he repeated. "I think the night as a whole went pretty well. No one got hurt, you didn't even make a huge ass of yourself like usual-"

"Don't you think this is all going _too_ well?" Zell cut him off, not appearing to have heard. He paused, thoughtful, for a moment or two, while Seifer waited for an elaboration. At the sound of footsteps, they both turned, and Zell pulled him quickly down a dark side corridor until they were passed. "I mean," he went on after some time, "after all that fuss about her stupid Garden idea, it's like everyone's completely forgotten already-"

"Oh, you noticed that too?" Seifer murmured, scratching his chin. So Zell wasn't entirely susceptible to Dallia's flirtatious charm? Or maybe he was just becoming used to her.

"I don't know what she's playing at," Zell sighed, sounding perplexed. Seifer tried not to find it cute.

"'Playing' is the operative word," he said shortly. "This is her idea of fun. She's fucking us all around because she's got nothing better to do."

"You think she'd do that?"

"Pretty much told me so. It's just a game to her," Seifer muttered.

"Huh," Zell said, and then grinned. "So that's why you don't like her. She's beatin' you at your own game-"

"What?" Seifer interrupted sharply, turning on the other man, who snickered.

"You're two of a kind, aren't you? You and your bloody head games. You know, this _is_ fun," Zell remarked with a smug, satisfied look, showing his teeth in a smirk. "Seein' you finally get some of yours back-"

"You can shut up now," Seifer cut in, taking a sudden step forward; Zell instinctively retreated, and his back hit the wall - a flash of alarm crossed his face; he seemed to only just realize that he and Seifer were in a very dark, secluded, and close space, and that Seifer was smoothly closing the small distance between them, with a grin that was in no way meant to hide his intentions. Zell held up a hand, which Seifer effortlessly pushed aside.

"Hey, now," he began to protest, but trailed off.

"What?"

"Quit it," he said, raising his hand again, and not showing much resistance when Seifer pushed it away again.

"Make me," he fairly purred, watching with satisfaction as Zell's face contorted in frustration, and knowing full well that the other man wouldn't do anything. His protests were negligible at best, and getting weaker with each of Seifer's advances. It wouldn't be long at all before he gave up completely, Seifer figured (and hoped, more than he'd be willing to admit.)

"Anyone could come-"

"There's no one here but you and me," Seifer replied, dropping his voice to a whisper. The corridor around them was utterly silent, and he could hear Zell's breathing quicken as he moved in, but there were no further protests. The martial artist yielded almost readily to Seifer's kiss, pressing up against the taller man with eagerness; Seifer reciprocated by snaking an arm around him, placing his hand in the small of Zell's back and pulling him in, eliminating the space between them. Zell made a breathy noise like a groan, which only spurred Seifer on; he took advantage of Zell's parted lips to get some tongue action, until, a half minute later, as if suddenly coming to his senses, Zell pushed him off, glaring up at him in a way that Seifer assumed was supposed to seem fierce, but the effect of which was somewhat diminished by the flushed colour of his cheeks and the slightly dozy look on his face that Seifer was coming to recognize was satisfaction.

"I won't tell you again to stop it-" Zell began, but Seifer cut him off mid-sentence.

"You weren't complaining so much this morning," he reminded the other man smugly. The light in the corridor was minimal, but he could still see the wash of red that blossomed over Zell's cheeks at this reminder, the sight of which prompted flashbacks to that morning - Zell pink all over, fresh from the shower, all wet eyelashes and mussed hair and in just his jeans... and then having the nerve to act surprised when Seifer pounced on him, as if he hadn't known just how _damn good_ he looked.

Zell was scowling, but the sentiment didn't quite reach his eyes. "Almasy-"

"Zell," Seifer interrupted again, drawing the other man's name out long and slow and watching Zell swallow hard.

"I could hit you," he said, raising a fist.

"So hit me," Seifer challenged, dipping forward again and stealing Zell's lips in a leisurely kiss, at the end of which the martial artist was beginning to look distinctly ruffled, in a way that Seifer quite liked.

"I will," he murmured, his fist still raised, but not advancing anywhere toward Seifer's jaw. His other hand was clutching Seifer's tie - and wrinkling it beyond hope, Seifer imagined, but decided he didn't much care - as if to pull him closer, but the space between them was already gone. He advanced again, catching Zell's lips before he had time to turn his head away, and Zell's fist dropped to his side uselessly as he arched up toward Seifer, pressing against him and not making any further attempt to fight him off.

When he broke off again, taking a moment to catch his breath - and gather his thoughts, which were becoming cloudy - Seifer had to smirk at the face Zell was making, which was that of total surrender. "Why don't you just admit you want me?" he said in a low tone.

Zell's expression shifted, and he cocked his head to look up at Seifer quizzically. "Oh, I see," he said shortly, his smile growing tight; if Seifer had been thinking with his brain at the moment, he might have recognized this sudden change in temperament as the warning sign that it was, instead of being caught by surprise moments later as he was thrown back by the force of the punch Zell landed squarely in his chest. "That what this is all about, huh?" Zell snarled with a fearsome grin, before his next hit caught Seifer directly in the eye, and he went down hard, seeing stars. The opposite wall cut his downward trajectory short, knocking the breath out of him as he landed on his arse, while Zell watched with a coldly satisfied expression; the state of wanton abandon he'd been in not a minute ago had vanished without a trace.

"I warned you what would happen if you tried to fuck me around again," he said coolly. Seifer rose gingerly to his feet, keeping a wary distance; he was about to protest, but the dangerous look on Zell's face stopped him short. If he wasn't careful, the other man might just make good on the threat he'd made in the train car, and Seifer didn't much relish the thought of being kicked in the balls, on top of a black eye. Not that he had much idea of what he would even say, given the chance - Zell had entirely misunderstood what Seifer was getting at, but he wasn't quite sure how to explain that without revealing rather too much of himself at the moment. "Man, you are such a dick," Zell muttered, as if to himself but his voice was loud and clear enough that it was obvious he wasn't taking pains to keep Seifer from hearing.

"Zell-" Seifer began, but was cut off.

"Shut up," Zell snapped, scowling as he turned away. "I'm leaving." He poked his head out into the main corridor, evidently found it vacant to his satisfaction, and walked away, grumbling bad-humouredly under his breath; Seifer didn't need to be able to hear what he was saying to know what was the subject of the martial artist's discontented grousing. He had half a mind to run after Zell anyway, but after a moment's thought, he dismissed the idea - he wasn't quite that desperate yet, and anyway, he'd probably only get another fist in the face as a reward. Better to let Zell cool off for a while, and then, perhaps, tackle the issue in the morning with a plan - although that meant another night of sleeping on that blasted couch, which Seifer was not looking forward to. He sighed, rubbing his eye, which was aching already and would probably be ugly by the time he got back to the hotel, and resigned himself to another night of backache and bad sleep - with some luck, and some tactful explanation in the morning, it might just be his last.

He grinned to himself, despite the pain. Yes, he might have lost this battle, but the war would yet be his... 


	17. Chapter 17

Zell scowled at his breakfast as he listened to the sounds of Seifer finally getting up in the other room. He'd been sulking since his slinking return to the room last night, and had been pretending to sleep most of the morning, in a petulant way that Zell supposed was meant to make him feel guilty, but he was determined not to. What did he have to be guilty about, anyway? One would think Seifer would be used to getting hit by now, what with his propensity for being an arsehole. Furthermore, Zell felt he had let the other man off easy - he'd been rather inclined to dismember the ex-knight, in the very extremely literal meaning of the word, and the only thing that had really stopped him was the thought that it would be somewhat difficult to explain such a thing to Squall when he got back to Garden. Then again, maybe not - taking their history into consideration, it might be the greater surprise if either of them returned from this trip _without_ having maimed the other.

The worst part was that Seifer had been _right_ - and if he hadn't been such a dick about it, he'd probably be getting up, well-rested and smug, from Zell's bed right now, instead of grumbling and bitching from the couch. He hated it when Seifer was right. It wasn't like it was a well-kept secret that there was something in the air between them, and something powerful at that, but Zell was for damn sure not going to be the first one to admit to it. Seifer's game was, for whatever reason, to make him cave, and Zell was done playing. Whatever Seifer was bent on getting out of him, he sure as fuck wasn't going to get it without some caving of his own.

He chewed violently on his toast and listened to Seifer stumbling around in the next room. He certainly wasn't a morning person, and spending two and a half weeks on that rack-like contraption that passed for a fold-away bed probably wasn't helping his mood any. Zell brightened up a bit at the thought. Whether or not Seifer realized it, there was a nice, comfy bed just waiting for him in the other room as soon as he was ready to swallow his pride and stop playing these ridiculous mind games.

Zell tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, games were really all Seifer knew. At the very least, he got no respect from pretty much anyone, and from most of the people at Garden, a lot less than that. If he wasn't a dickhead, then what else did he have? Not to mention, the relationship between the two of them had always been something like that of gasoline and fire at the very best of times. It was possible that to actually be friendly and honest with Zell might cause Seifer literal physical harm - alright, maybe that was stretching it, but only by a little. Old habits died hard, and even though Zell had completely changed his way of thinking about Seifer over the past few months (well, mostly,) he too had found that his natural behavior wasn't quite as easy to overcome; hostility was ingrained in him, had been for nearly two decades. But he _had_ overcome it, and with moderate success too. It was impossible to keep up when Seifer was actively being an arsehole, which was most of the time, but it could be done.

"Good morning," Zell said, not amicably, as the other man shuffled into the kitchen. Seifer made a half-intelligible noise in response, heading for the coffee pot which Zell had purposely left empty that morning just for the other's reaction, which was gratifyingly pouty and gruff. Zell wasn't exactly an early bird himself, though he did try to get up at a decent hour even on his off-days, but Seifer was in an entirely different class of late-rising; Zell figured he operated on max sixty percent brain function at least until noon most days. It was actually pretty funny, for the most part. He watched Seifer work at starting up the coffee pot, idly wondering how much resistance the gunblader was likely to put up if Zell grabbed him by the shirt, pushed him down onto the floor, and started undressing him. Probably not much, if any. Getting him while he was sleepy and susceptible (it had taken Zell a while to be able to put that word in conjunction with Seifer's name with a straight face,) might be the key to getting Seifer to finally break down so they could end this ridiculous standoff. Heaven knew Zell wasn't going to be the first one to cave, no matter what Seifer might think.

He was so absorbed in planning that it took him a minute or two to realize Seifer was mumbling something at him. He hadn't expected the other man to be articulate so soon after getting up. "I said, what are your plans for the weekend?" Seifer repeated when Zell looked up inquisitively.

"None of your business what they are, they don't include you," he replied frostily. Truthfully he didn't have any plans, but of course if he told that to Seifer the gunblader would find some way to make plans. Seifer smirked, dropping bread into the toaster.

"Bitchy," he muttered.

"Takes one to know one," Zell said under his breath, not going unheard by Seifer if his sneer was any indication. The other man didn't respond, buttering his toast in dignified silence. Zell gritted his teeth; he had never mastered Seifer's infuriating knack for conveying utter disdain sheerly through silence. He finished off his breakfast, his last bit of toast sticking like a piece of carpet in his throat as Seifer sashayed into the other room in a manner clearly calculated to draw Zell's gaze to his arse. He got up from the table, gathering his dishes noisily as Seifer switched the TV on in the other room.

"You better not be _eating_ on my _bed_," he called through the doorway in warning, but there was no reply. No doubt the bastard was shaking toast crumbs all over the place just to make a point, the infernal creep. Zell cleaned the dishes with a fury he rarely unleashed on mundane chores, trying not to let Seifer annoy him, but it was so much easier said than done; Seifer could be maddeningly passive-aggressive when he wanted to, and Zell was just no good at handling him. He preferred to be straightforward; if it was fighting, with words or fists. Over the course of this trip, Seifer, evidently, had found all of Zell's buttons and knew just how to push them; he might as well have just handed the other man a manual, he was so good at winding Zell up - he himself, meanwhile, couldn't even figure out from one day to the next whether Seifer was just jerking him around, like him or hated him, if he was just being a dick for the hell of it, or if he had some other agenda.

"Zell," he heard Seifer call from the bedroom. He ignored it, scrubbing the dishes well past clean and pretending not to have heard. He could do with a bit less of that, as well - since last night it had been "Zell" this and "Zell" that, as if Seifer had suddenly forgotten that he had spent the last fifteen years or so calling Zell by a variety of colourful names, none of which were his given one. And the way he said it - all low and breathy, like just being able to call Zell by his name was a treat - hell, Zell almost preferred he go back to "chicken-wuss" if this was going to become a regular thing, though he wouldn't admit that to Seifer. It was too intimate, and it was really starting to grate on Zell's nerves.

"_Zell_," Seifer repeated insistently.

"What?" he yelled back grouchily. He was pretty sure Seifer was baiting him - when _wasn't_ he? - but when he went into the other room, Seifer was standing beside the bed, his toast, uneaten, in one hand and the remote in the other, and a very troubling expression on his face. He gave Zell a look of weary exasperation.

"Have you seen the news this morning?" he asked, nodding toward the TV, where some cheesy tabloid program was showcasing a photo of him and Dallia on the patio of the hotel, the First Lady of Galbadia pink-faced and giggling. Seifer's back was to the camera but Zell was willing to bet he was scowling, since he was never in a worse mood than when Dallia was in a good one; to the casual observer, however, the photo was certainly an incriminating one. Several more covert shots followed of the two of them leaving and entering other establishments, a few of which were hotels (Zell himself was torn between feeling extremely grateful that he didn't feature in any of these pictures and being slightly annoyed - he was a celebrity too, wasn't he?) which had been purely on business but certainly wouldn't appear that way to bystanders. Zell continued to watch, dumbstruck, as the reporter gave a very stunted - and not flattering - biography of Seifer, highlighting in particular his role during the war and emphasizing his "preference for women of power", and he was only startled out of watching when Seifer hurled the remote control across the room, where it met the wall and burst into a dozen pieces.

"Calm down," Zell said.

"Why should I calm down?" Seifer said, his toast the next thing to go; Zell watched its trajectory across the room and into the corner, and then he turned back to Seifer, trying to gauge his temper before the situation turned unpleasant. "Can you believe this shit?"

Despite his words and his violent display with his breakfast, Zell didn't think that the other man really seemed all that angry - not at the stupid report on TV, in any case. It had been five years, after all, and he had to have gotten used to the gossip, the tabloids, the badly-narrated biopics that always placed him in a bad light. Seifer was scowling and he was clearly not happy, but he _was_ calm, which was unsettling. "What were you guys doing?" Zell asked.

"Nothing. Just talking," Seifer answered, and sighed. "She should have fucking known better, though."

"What do you mean? Did you know you were being followed?"

"Well, there were paparazzi everywhere," was all he said, retrieving the bulk of the remote from off the floor and mashing buttons until the TV switched off, cutting off in the middle of a colourful segment detailing the similarities between Dallia, Edea, and Rinoa - which were, now that Zell thought about it, eerie. Small, fair, dark-haired, they all also had the effect of making others want to protect them... at least until you got to know them, and realized that protection was the last thing any of them needed from someone else. Zell suddenly had a strange thought: Seifer definitely had a type, and Zell was not at all it. He was, as a matter of fact, just the opposite; even if Seifer did like guys, someone like Squall was probably more up his alley - which was an even more disturbing thought...

"I don't see what's funny," Seifer snarled, trying without success to cram the pieces of the remote back together. "How long do you reckon before the General hauls us in about this?"

"What's this 'us' business?" Zell muttered back, trying to shoo the unsettling images that last train of thought had provoked from his mind. "I ain't in any of those pictures."

Seifer gave him a look that could have burned through the drywall. "We're supposed to be a team or some shit."

"Well, for us bein' a team, you're sure going off and doing your own thing a lot," Zell shot back with a shrug, feeling a lot less nonchalant about the situation than he was acting. The truth was, they were probably going to get their arses handed to them by the General, Squall, and Quistis, not necessarily in that order, and they had, as of now, about ninety percent botched their mission. Undercover? Well, that had been a joke from the beginning, but there was a difference between being recognizable and being blatantly famous - or infamous, in Seifer's case. If the two of them managed to keep Dallia from harm during the remainder of her stay in Deling City, Zell might get away from this assignment with nothing more than a docked rank, but it would likely be a long time before Seifer would be allowed anything resembling real SeeD work, undercover or no. Despite himself, Zell felt a little bad about that; it was clear that Seifer had very few other joys in life.

The coffeemaker went off in the kitchen and Seifer followed it, apparently lacking a decent retort to that last accusation. Zell remained in the bedroom, thinking. It occurred to him now that it was unusual that Caraway would let a story like that air in the first place - it might not be said, but he certainly held enough power around here to keep his wife's scandals out of the public eye, whether or not she wanted it that way. Seifer seemed to think that Dallia was playing some kind of game with them; was it possible she'd had some part in this? Not that Zell thought she'd set up such a situation, or even that she'd known about it, but if she thought that to be the center of such attention was amusing - well, that sounded like her. Not to mention, all she had to do was lift one tiny manicured finger to the phone and that story would never have seen the light of day. She had a mischievous side, one that seemed to delight in making his and Seifer's working life a hell.

The phone rang, and Zell jumped. "Gee, I wonder who _that_ is," he heard Seifer scowl grouchily from the kitchen, followed by the sound of the other man stirring milk into his coffee violently. Zell made a face that Seifer couldn't possibly see, and then answered the phone himself, and then spent the next five minutes humming and "yes sir"ing through painful conversation with Graydon, the General's butler, with some restraint managing not to slam the phone back down until after the line had clicked off. The noise drew Seifer back into the room, a steaming mug of coffee clutched in his hand.

"What did he have to say?" he asked, though his expression said he knew perfectly well.

"What do you expect?" Zell replied, sighing as he replaced the phone gingerly. "We're not to leave the hotel or make any appearances until he gives us further instruction. He'll call again tomorrow."

Seifer looked thoughtful at this news, sipping his drink carefully. He seemed calm and understanding, but not at all angry, which Zell was beginning to think should be suspicious. "Figures," he said finally, making a frustrated sound and sitting on the edge of the bed. "What about Dallia?"

"I assume she's got enough sense to stay out of the public eye for now," Zell said, though on second thought, he wasn't sure he _did_ believe that. Seifer made a pained face that said that he was having the same thought.

"Well," he said after a few minutes, standing up and heading back toward the kitchen with a half-smirk on his face - yeah, he was definitely too cool about this whole deal; Zell was starting to feel distinctly uneasy. "I guess that's it for your plans, then," Seifer remarked, looking smug.

Zell felt his heart sink. That was right - he hadn't had any plans, but now he had even less than that; he had virtually been ordered to stay locked in this room with Seifer for the next twenty-four hours. They'd been told not to leave the hotel, but he couldn't even reasonably leave the room without risking exposure - they didn't know how many people had been tailing Seifer or what was waiting out there for them. And Seifer... that bastard, that's why he wasn't at all angry; this situation was working out perfectly to his advantage, at least for now. He had Zell just where he wanted him: close at hand and unable to escape.

"Time for room service," Seifer announced.

"What? It's barely ten o'clock," Zell replied.

"So? What else have we got to do today?"

Zell gritted his teeth, watching the other man place the call. Seifer had a point, after all; what else did they have to do but sit around and try to tolerate each other for the rest of the day? And although he wasn't a fan of Seifer's propensity for day-drinking, well, why not?

"You don't seem too torn up about this," he said casually. Seifer looked up, and gave a half-shrug, the phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear.

"To be honest, anything that causes her grief is fine by me," he answered, and he looked, indeed, like he couldn't be less worried about the situation at hand. "Anyway, this mission was a joke from the start, so it's not like it can get worse."

"Well, we agree on something," Zell said tersely, gathering up his clothes and heading for the refuge of the bathroom, making sure to slam the door shut behind him before Seifer could get in a reply.

* * *

He took an extra-long shower just to piss Seifer off, but when he emerged from the bathroom a half hour later, he was surprised to find that they had company. "Seera?!" he said, slicking still-wet hair back from his face as he went to the door, where the tiny girl was unloading a case of beer and several grocery bags off a cart. "What the... hell is this?"

"Room service," Seifer answered from behind him, grinning cheekily.

"Room service?!"

"Special request," Seifer elaborated.

"Seifer explained your situation to me so I did him a favor," Seera chimed in before Zell could go off on him. Judging by the more-than-a-little begrudging look on her face, it had taken some doing on Seifer's part. "We don't keep cases of beer in the kitchen and he was very specific," she went on, whipping the case off the cart with surprising strength and setting it down hard on the floor very close to Seifer's bare feet. She gave him a sweet smile and he took a wary step back, taking his groceries with him.

"What the fuck," Zell sputtered, following Seifer into the kitchen, where he was unloading his snacks. "You can't make her run errands for you."

"It's her job," Seifer said, studying a bag of cheddar crisps.

"It is not," Zell hissed.

"Don't worry, I tipped."

He stomped back into the living room, where Seera was waiting with a slip for him to sign. "Look, Zell," she said, glancing toward the kitchen furtively, "don't give him too much hassle; I mostly did it for your benefit. I don't know how you can live with him like this."

"Did he tip you?" Zell asked.

"Um... no," she said, looking bemused. Zell went to the sofa and grabbed Seifer's jacket, and started rifling through the pockets while she watched on, frowning. "Look, Zell," she said again, taking the handful of bills he pressed into her hand without looking at it. "Most of the hotel staff have seen the thing on telly this morning so I just wanted to give you a head's up. They should know better than to come and mess with you but I can't vouch for all of them. If you need anything, you ought to call me personally at the front desk."

"Oh, well, thanks," Zell replied, unsure whether to be grateful that she was being so helpful or annoyed that she was so involved in his business. After a moment of deliberation, he opted for the gracious route and decided to be thankful; after all, with Seifer not going out of his way to make Zell's life any easier, he could use an ally. He smiled, wishing Seifer had carried more cash so that he could tip better.

"Say," she remarked after a moment, peering with a sour expression toward the kitchen, from which Seifer had not yet emerged. "He's not... really sleeping with Dallia Caraway, is he?"

"What?"

"No, of course not," she answered herself without giving him time to even deny it; she cracked a smile, something Zell had rarely seen her do, and waved her hand as though the question was so stupid she couldn't even believe she'd asked. "He'd never. Definitely not. Sorry I asked."

"Don't be," was all Zell said in response. He had a feeling she was implying something he wasn't sure he liked, but instead of pursuing it, he merely watched in silence as she made to leave, peering through the peephole of the door to make sure the corridor was clear before exiting. He was still going over the exchange in his head and trying to figure out exactly what she had been getting at when Seifer, who had clearly been occupied in the kitchen waiting for the coast to be clear, re-emerged, two cans of beer in one hand and half of a sandwich in the other.

"Finally gone, huh?" he said, settling back down on the bed as though he belonged there. Zell scowled his hardest but to no avail; Seifer didn't even blink an eye.

"You're lucky I didn't let her feed you to the paparazzi, with the way you act."

"Blah, blah," Seifer said, waving an idle hand. He held up a beer in Zell's direction. "Join me?"

"Sometimes I can't believe how much of a dick you are," Zell murmured, walking away.

"Sometimes I can't believe you're still surprised by it," was Seifer's reply.

Zell gnashed his teeth without answering. Clearly Seifer was determined to be flippant and Zell knew from experience how little would be gained by engaging him. Well, if Seifer was bent on playing games, Zell was going to twist the rules a little his way. He turned back and walked to the bed, snatching the beer from Seifer's hand and plopping right down next to him on the mattress. He smiled, feeling pleased at Seifer's expression of bewilderment. "Anything good on telly?"

"They're replaying last night's match," Seifer replied, manipulating the mangled remains of the remote control until he could flip channels.

Several beers and one remarkably boring football match later, Zell was beginning to worry about his plan of action. For the last hour or so, Seifer had been abnormally quiet and absorbed in watching what was on TV, which had to mean he was plotting something. Zell refused to believe he was that interested in the outcome of the match (which had been clear from the first ten minutes anyway; everyone knew that the Esthar Elnoyles always choked in cold climate, and Trabia United was unstoppable this season.) He was probably doing the same thing Zell was doing: trying to formulate his next plan of attack. They couldn't just sit around watching telly and drinking all day. At the very least, they should try and figure out what to do about the situation with Seifer and Dallia, which, judging by some of the snippets they were seeing in between channels, was escalating in the typical manner of celebrity gossip - that is to say, with absurd rapidity. Zell was paranoid to open the shade on the window lest they be blinded by the flashing cameras of a mob of paparazzi.

Seifer spoke before he could begin to think how to breach the subject. "Do you suppose she has a plan?" he asked wonderingly, cracking open a beer and tossing the empties into the small bin next to the bed, which was quickly getting full.

"What do you mean?"

"Like... who do you think she's trying to piss off? Aside from the two of us, obviously," Seifer elaborated.

"Her husband," Zell offered dubiously.

"I don't think so. Does he seem very pissed off to you?"

"Well... no, I guess."

"If anything, he's being unusually docile about her behavior on the whole. Which makes me think that whatever she's up to, he must at least be aware of it," Seifer declared, thinking aloud. Zell shrugged, but since the other man didn't seem to be listening one way or the other, he didn't reply. He was mostly talking to himself, but at least he wasn't goading, Zell mused, feeling grateful for the respite. "Man, I hate Trabians," Seifer said.

"How can you say that?" Zell scolded, getting up from the bed to gather up the empty cans. "You can't know that. You haven't met every Trabian in the world."

"I've never met one I liked yet," Seifer said.

"If anything, it's the Trabians who should hate you," Zell went on. "You did blow up their Garden, after all."

"Thanks for reminding me," Seifer grumbled, chucking his beer can onto the floor. Zell picked it up and threw it in the bin, scowling with marked disapproval at the other man.

"Can you at least try not to be in a completely foul mood, since I have to be stuck here with you all day?" he asked sourly.

Seifer, to his credit, looked chagrined. "This is such bullshit. This mission was a total joke, and we still managed to fuck it up. I'm going to be pushing paperwork for the rest of my miserably short life as a SeeD."

"There you go again with that 'we' stuff," Zell remarked. "I'm pretty sure the only fucking up I've done is letting you get away with all the fucking up _you've_ done. How do you think it looks on me to be partnered up with someone who can't even handle basic bodyguard detail? She's a bloody heiress, for fuck's sake," he finished, tying off the plastic bag he had just finished stuffing cans into. He left the room without even looking back for Seifer's reaction, only to find the gunblader, on his return, staring at him with an expression something like shock.

"You're not being very reassuring," Seifer said accusingly.

"I'm not trying to be. Now can you quit with the fucking pity party and maybe do something constructive, like help me decide what we're going to do about this mess?"

"I'm inclined to let Dallia deal with it and happily watch it all blow up in her face," was Seifer's answer. It occurred to Zell that the other man was not sober, so instead of arguing, he left the room, fed up with the exercise in futility that was trying to have a straight conversation with Seifer. He went into the kitchen aimlessly, it being the only of the three small rooms that was farthest from Seifer at the moment. He banged around for a short while with some dishes to sound productive, until he realized that Seifer had followed him and was watching from the doorway with unconcealed amusement.

Zell clanked some glasses together noisily, but it didn't make the other man leave. Instead, he came into the kitchen, walking to the counter and standing next to Zell. "Look, can I ask you a question?" he said.

"No," Zell replied shortly, stowing the glasses back on the shelf before he did something regrettable, like smashing one over Seifer's thick skull. He wasn't sure the expense would be covered by Garden.

"Zell," Seifer said, his tone low. "I'm being serious. Would you look at me?"

"And I'm being serious," Zell answered, obliging the gunblader, but only to glare at him. "I'm not going to answer your question. You complain that I'm always trying to punch my way out of a real conversation, but_you're_ always trying to run around one. So, no, you can't ask me a question."

He turned and walked away, trying his hardest not to flounce, but again Seifer followed him before he'd gotten far. "Fine," Seifer said, giving a little smirk that Zell didn't have time to decide whether he liked or not before the other man took him by the arm and steered him toward the couch. Zell let himself be led across the room and then stood watching, half puzzled and half curious, as Seifer went to the minibar set up in the corner and began unloading it.

"What do you mean, 'fine'?" Zell said suspiciously.

"I mean, fine," Seifer murmured, gathering up tiny bottles of liquor, "you answer my questions and I'll answer yours. I think we're capable of having a real conversation."

"Uhh," was all Zell could manage, unable to formulate a valid excuse for refusing. Only when Seifer knelt down on the floor next to the couch, arranging the small bottles in a row, did Zell gather himself enough to ask, "well, why the liquor?"

"We'll make a game out of it," Seifer said, standing up and going back to the kitchen. He returned with the half-empty case of beer and set it down beside the couch, and then sat down on the floor himself. He waved Zell down to his level, and Zell, still bemused, took a seat on the carpet. "Yes or no questions only; you don't want to answer, you drink." He paused, thoughtful, and grinned. "And a two drink penalty for throwing punches."

"This is pretty stupid," Zell began, but Seifer's smug expression stopped his protests. Trying to cop out of this ridiculous game Seifer had devised would only prove his point; and Zell had to give him credit, at least he wasn't trying to cop out himself. They had a problem communicating: he'd come up with a solution, even if that solution was twisted and very likely to end badly for one or both of them.

"You can start," Seifer said graciously, grabbing two beers and passing one to Zell.

"Umm," Zell said stupidly. Seifer merely stared at him, patiently waiting. "Okay... you said yes or no questions only?"

"Yep," Seifer said. "My turn."

"That doesn't count!"

"It was a yes or no question. Now, let me think," he went on, pretending to spend a great deal of thought on his question. Zell drank his beer, scowling and trying to think of something he could ask Seifer. There were a million things, even if the scope was narrowed by yes or no answers. He could think of questions alright, but having the nerve to ask them was a different matter; did he really want things to be that open between them? "Aha," Seifer said, as if he'd just come up with the answer to the great secret of life. "I've got it. Are you gay?"

"No!" Zell sputtered, spitting beer down his shirt. Seifer snorted in laughter and Zell wished he'd tempered his reaction. Clearly Seifer's aim was not to get his questions answered, but to jerk him around some more. Well, two could play that game. "Are _you_?" he shot back.  
Seifer gave a slow smile. "No," he answered, sitting forward. "Don't make this difficult."

"You're the one starting off with absurd questions," Zell hissed.

"It's your turn."

"Why does it have to be yes or no?"

"Not a yes or no question. That's a penalty drink," Seifer declared. He pulled a bottle from the lineup, peered at the label for a moment, and then peeled the seal off. "Drink up," he said encouragingly as Zell took the bottle uncertainly. "Now, are you going to play this game seriously?"

"Well, are you going to stop asking stupid questions and be serious?" Zell countered.

"Yes," Seifer said.

"Then, yes," Zell agreed, taking a tentative sip of liquor. Trabian whiskey wasn't his favorite, but it wasn't bad.

"As long as we've got that sorted," Seifer said, nodding approval. "The answer to your question, by the way, is because it's more fun this way. You actually have to think about what you want to ask instead of just blurting things out, the way you usually do."

"I don't do that."

"You just did it twice in as many minutes. But by all means, keep it up - the quicker you're drunk, the more fun this game will be," Seifer declared, looking smug, as though relishing the prospect. Zell refused to humour him. The quicker _he_ was drunk, the quicker this silly game would be over; and with that thought, Zell decided to go on the attack. Seifer had a fair start on him already, and with the right questions, the gunblader would be passed out in a drunken stupor in no time. On the flip side, Zell would have to be entirely honest so as not to end up drinking himself, but in truth he was past caring - he'd been too dishonest for too long, both to himself and to Seifer, and that was part of the problem.

"Whatever," he said bitterly, "it's your turn."

"Okay. Do you, and I'm being serious this time," Seifer said, waving a tiny bottle of white wine, "do you fancy guys?"

"No," Zell replied coolly, which was mostly true. "Are you asking me that because you're hoping the answer was 'yes'?"

Seifer gave a sly smile and took a drink. Zell huffed. "You're such a wuss," he said.

"Says the chicken-wuss."

"There's my next question: are you ever going to stop with that name-calling shit? 'Cause it's gotten real old," Zell retorted.

"It's not your turn, but the answer is no," Seifer said. "Now I get two. Here's one: do you have a thing for me?"

"Yes," Zell said, "it's called _loathing_."

"Ha ha ha ha. You're funny."

"Just ask your damn question," Zell muttered, drinking his beer. Seifer had already finished his first and was going for another; Zell counted him three beers ahead already, which was going to make things a lot easier if Seifer kept up the pace. It was hardly past noon, but the gunblader didn't seem to care, and Zell wasn't going to bother to mention it. Besides, a drunk Seifer was much less clever, and therefore much more agreeable, than a sober one; so why complain?

"Are you being facetious just to annoy me?"

"Yes, obviously," was Zell's answer. "You're wasting your questions asking stupid stuff."

"That's what _you_ think," Seifer replied, shaking his beer at Zell, until it slopped over the rim of the can. "Maybe I'm asking all the right questions and you just don't realize it."

"Are you drunk or what?"

"No," Seifer said. "Now tell me really. Do you hate me?"

Zell pondered that one for a moment. Despite how often he might say it, he obviously didn't _hate_ Seifer - that was what was really frustrating; he _couldn't_. He probably never had, but it was just his natural response after fifteen years or so of dealing with Seifer. In fact, he couldn't say with any certainty what he _did_ feel toward Seifer, which was annoying. At the best of times, Seifer was hard to get along with, but he could be amiable when he had a mind to - the problem was just that; as long as Zell continued to be distant, Seifer was going to purposely be difficult just to irritate him.

There was the issue. He wanted to like Seifer, he really did; the ex-knight just made it _so damn hard_. The fact that he did it on purpose boggled Zell. The fact that Zell himself fully well _knew_ this and still, for whatever inexplicable reason, found himself sort of perhaps liking Seifer _anyway_ baffled him more. There was something about the way he always casually let some of that charm shine through - little peeks here and there of the kind of person he could be, fun and witty and pleasant, as if to show Zell what it could be like if only he would cooperate. Summing it up so neatly in his head like that, Zell decided he was going to be even more determined not to give in.

"You know I don't," Zell finally said in response to Seifer's question, scowling and wondering to himself if it would be worth having to take two penalty drinks just to wipe that smirk off Seifer's face just now. "But fuck do I wish I could."

"I'll bet," Seifer said.

"It's my turn," Zell said, trying not to smile as he decided to go on the offensive. "Do you regret the choice you made?"

"What choice would that be?"

"To go," Zell said softly, and Seifer, despite being quite a ways from sober, grasped what he meant at once.

"Every day of my life," he answered, peering down the neck of his miniature bottle of wine, presumably in order to not have to meet Zell's eyes. Zell might have called him a coward, except he was a little surprised himself at the honesty with which the other man had faced the question. He had expected more runaround, more drinking; he certainly hadn't expected Seifer to suddenly get serious. He waited quietly for Seifer's next question, feeling unnerved by the sudden awkward atmosphere.

"Well, that's not exactly true," Seifer said next, looking very thoughtful on the subject. "On one hand, going with her definitely fucked up my life probably forever. But who's to say I'd have liked what my life would have been like if I hadn't made that choice?"

"You'd have been just like the rest of us," Zell speculated, mulling the idea over - somehow, it didn't sit well in his mind.

"No," Seifer said, swigging beer. "I'd already failed the SeeD exam twice. Even if they'd let me take it again, I wouldn't have. I probably would have skipped out on Garden entirely - moved to Timber or somewhere shady like that and started a jolly life of crime. Eurgh," he said, making a face as if he'd suddenly had a particularly unpleasant thought, "I'd probably still be dating Rinoa..."

Zell didn't reply right away, and they both spent a quiet minute drinking. "I don't know about all that," he replied after thinking about it for a short while, but Seifer shook his head, his expression firm.

"There are things about my life now that I wouldn't give up, even if I had a chance to change things," he said, almost as if to himself as he continued to stare down at the bottle in his hand. "So I guess the answer is yes and no - I regret it, and at the same time, I'm perfectly content with the way things turned out."

Zell was about to ask him how that could possibly be, until it occurred to him just in time that it wasn't a yes or no question; all the same, now that his curiosity had been piqued, he was itching to know if Seifer was being truthful or if he was just talking out of his arse again. He didn't seem like the type who regretted many things in his life, which was partly why Zell had asked, but more than that, he also didn't seem like the type who was "perfectly content" with his life, or really content at all. He was on the verge of asking anyway, penalty drink be damned, just to see if Seifer would be honest with him; but the thought of that was a little scary in itself, and while he hesitated, Seifer seemed to get a hold of himself.

"My turn," he announced, sounding jaunty but still not meeting Zell's eyes. Zell tried to give him the benefit of the doubt; he supposed Seifer hadn't been honest enough in his life to feel comfortable at it yet. He'd already taken this question-and-answer game farther than Zell would ever have believed; that was something, he supposed. "Did you mean what you said?" Seifer asked.

"What I said?" Zell repeated, not following. Seifer made a quiet noise like frustration, looking away.

"The other day," he elaborated after a moment, "about... choices."

Zell had to think for a while until he could recall the conversation Seifer was referring to. HIs expression was nothing less than utterly casual, but there was something in the way that he'd asked the question that made Zell wonder if he'd been working up to this - nearly a full month of (at times, unbearable) closeness with the gunblader had given Zell the opportunity to learn a lot of his tones, but he'd never heard Seifer sound quite so close to desperation as he did just now. His answer, though, was easy, and he smirked as he replied, "yeah, sure. Have you been worrying about that this whole time since then?"

Seifer considered the question, and then, his lips curling into a smug little grin, took a drink. His face morphed smoothly from disquiet to ease, but Zell didn't miss the flash of relief that crossed him like a shaft of sunlight - there and gone before anyone who hadn't just spent three overwrought weeks having ample occasion to study Seifer's facial expressions would notice. He _had_ been worrying about it. Zell had been mostly joking, but he was slightly dumbfounded by the realization. He'd never known Seifer to really care what anyone thought about his pre- and post-war choices, and he'd certainly never shown an inclination to care what Zell thought about him at all. Or was he wrong?

"You're not drinking much," Seifer remarked.

"I thought the point of the game was to ask questions, not to get drunk," Zell shot back.

"It is, but why not kill two birds with one stone?"

"It's hardly past noon," Zell said, trying not to sound too much like Quistis and, to judge by Seifer's pitying shake of the head, failing.

"What does it matter? Caraway made it pretty clear we're not to do anything until further notice, so we might as well have as much fun as we can..." He trailed off, giving Zell a sly sideways look as though he could think of a number of ways they could have more fun if only he would cooperate. The smug look on his face was enough to ensure that Zell would happily choose to rot in hell before doing anything like cooperating with Seifer in any way.

"I hate to break it to you, but I can't say I've ever enjoyed any time you're drinking," Zell said in a clipped tone.

"Are you sure?" Seifer replied, finishing off another beer. He leaned forward, smiling, and said, "we are still playing a game, don't forget."

Zell scowled, and took a swig of his whiskey. He _had_ nearly forgotten, but he was under no circumstances going to admit to Seifer that he had, in retrospect and after wriggling his way out from underneath a mountain of denial, in fact, enjoyed their drunken makeout sessions - well, he had enjoyed the sober ones, too, but drinking had the benefit of making Seifer forget to be suspicious of the fact that Zell was no longer protesting. Seifer, however, didn't need to know any of that, so Zell put his next question forward. "Are you really being honest? Because I don't see any point to sitting here and wasting my time if you're just fucking around because you're bored," he said, sounding sharper than he intended.

He half-expected Seifer to phrase a vehement denial, or at the very least, to drink to that - instead, the other man gave him a long, lingering stare, looking neither angry at the question nor amused. "I'm actually offended that you asked that," he said after a moment, and he sounded it, which seemed to surprise him as much as it did Zell. It hadn't occurred to him until now that maybe Seifer _was_ actually trying to be honest - that this ridiculous game and Seifer's drinking were necessary because Seifer really couldn't just be straight with him; he had to go to absurd lengths to even have a normal conversation. _But why not?_ Zell thought privately, _it's not like anyone takes him at his word anyway, and being an arsehole is probably one of the very few enjoyments he has in life._

"Yeah, well, it's not like we've made it a habit to be truthful with each other up until now," he said bitterly, hating the hot curl of shame that was creeping through his gut. Sure, Seifer was a dick, but there was no denying that Zell and the others shared some responsibility in that; they'd never given him much of a chance.

Seifer seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Am I supposed to be entirely to blame for that?" he asked, grabbing another can of beer from the case beside him, his movements imbued with a stiffness that belied his nonchalant expression. "I mean, at least I try, even if you don't believe me. Tell me when was the last time_you_ were honest with me - or yourself, for that matter," he added, his tone short and sharp.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zell said, getting angry.

"Don't play dumb. You're so thick in denial you can't even see it when I'm slapping you in the face with it," Seifer went on; his tone was sour, but he only seemed to half be talking to Zell, who was damned if he knew what the other man was on about now. He was going off-track and the conversation with him; Zell was doing his best to keep his temper in check, but he was coming real close to being fed up with Seifer's bullshit.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you? Or are you trying not to?" Seifer said, his expression going dark. Zell suddenly felt a sense of uneasy foreboding, which was momentarily amplified when Seifer set down his drinks and got up on his knees, moving forward toward Zell, who leaned back only to find the barrier of the couch just behind him. Seifer was trying to corner him again; Zell refused to be intimidated, but he had nowhere to go as the other man moved in close, leaning over Zell with his arms on either side of him, boxing him in. "Why don't you stop being a wuss and just admit you want me?"

"Fuck you," Zell said, glad he sounded cooler than he felt at the moment. He thought Seifer had taken the hint last night; apparently the gunblader had a thicker skull than Zell had thought. "What are you after, Almasy? I'm getting real tired of all this dicking around."

Seifer only stared at him for a long, charged moment, his expression, under a placid mask of anger, etched with musing. Zell was past caring if the other man was drunk or not; he was starting to become nonsensical and Zell had had quite enough. Still, he wanted to avoid getting in a fight with Seifer if he could help it, so he didn't make a move, instead waiting to see what Seifer's next would be.

"That's not a yes or no question," he said finally, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Oh, is that right?" Zell answered, flashing a grin himself as he raised his fist to pop Seifer hard on the jaw, sending him tumbling backwards, head over feet, empty beer cans and tiny bottles of liquor scattering behind him. He was well aware that ending the conversation like this was feeding right into Seifer's accusations of him, but even so, something about smacking Seifer around was terribly gratifying. He watched with satisfaction as Seifer lay on the floor, clearly having accepted defeat and not making a move to get up.

Zell stood, taking the mini bottle of whiskey and finishing it off in two gulps. Hey, no one could say he didn't follow the rules. "I'm through playing," he declared, throwing the bottle down. To hell with Caraway - if he had to spend another minute locked in this room with Seifer, he was going to do something highly regrettable. So, before he could change his mind (or Seifer could recover enough to do it for him,) he turned on his heel, grabbing his jacket from the hook beside the door, and stormed out, slamming the door extra-hard behind him just for good measure.

* * *

"This is probably the worst idea in the history of the world," Seifer said morosely, scowling behind his sunglasses.

"Just shut up," Zell said.

"No, I mean it. What could she be thinking? There's no way Caraway approved of this," Seifer went on.

"Just stop talking, will you?" Zell snapped, but his brusqueness didn't even turn Seifer's gaze from the darkened window through which he'd been staring absently throughout the car ride so far. "I'm sick of hearing your voice. In fact, just don't talk again today. This shit heap of trouble we're going to be in is bad enough without you making it worse by spouting off."

Zell was still pissed off about what had happened the day before, but if Seifer either noticed or cared, he was doing a good job not showing it. He'd been preoccupied the whole morning - hungover, Zell reckoned - and seemed determined to languish in self-pity, which Zell wouldn't mind so much if the other man would just shut up and leave him alone. He was, however, right about Dallia - she was clearly deluded if she thought that holding a press conference was going to do anything but make the situation worse for all of them. But they couldn't exactly refuse to go, which is how Zell ended up stuck in a car with a vehemently bitching Seifer, on their way to the Galbadia Grand Hotel where undoubtedly a crowd of reporters and journalists were waiting to paste his face all over the entertainment page, sending his career swirling down the drain for good. The only small consolation was that Seifer was surely going to be in more trouble than he was.

"I think it's about as worse as it can get," Seifer said, making faces at his reflection in the window. "There can't possibly be any way it can get worse."

"I can hit you," Zell suggested.

"Please. Put me out of my misery. If it deprives Leonhart of the satisfaction of firing me in person, by all means, kill me now," the gunblader went on.

Zell only sighed. Clearly there was going to be no talking to Seifer, so he gave up, letting the other man get back to his brooding. Zell tried to think of a way this situation could be not as bad as he thought, but failed. What was Dallia planning to say? Denying an affair would be worse than ignoring it; and in any case, having their faces aired across Galbadia standing next to her pretty much went blatantly against the clause in their contract that said something about being undercover.

"Pull yourself together, would you?" Zell muttered as the car pulled to a stop outside the hotel. He slipped his sunglasses on. "If you say a single word, I'll personally cripple you. Just let Caraway do all the talking and try not to piss anyone off."

Seifer turned, giving Zell a long look over the top of his sunglasses. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then evidently thought better of it, instead opening the door and stepping out of the car. Zell followed suit and they entered the hotel, where he saw that most of the crowd was waiting, although a few photographers had been lingering outside and were doing their damnedest to get a few words out of either him or Seifer as they made their way in. Zell shook them off, heading for the conference room Dallia had summoned them to, with Seifer trailing unenthusiastically behind him.

The lady herself was waiting for them just inside, and she beelined for Zell as he entered, ushering him and Seifer toward the back corner of the room. "Perfect, you're here," she declared, smiling widely and fussily straightening the front of Seifer's jacket. Then she turned to Zell and pretended to brush some dust from his sleeve, and said, "Put on a smile, now. You're going to be on TV."

"Don't remind me," Zell murmured, but he managed to twist his lips into something like a grin. "At least try not to look like you want to kill yourself," he said to Seifer, who hadn't even removed his sunglasses and was scowling around the room.

"I find that preferable to Caraway doing it for me," he said darkly, but he worked his face into a neutral expression. Zell was on the verge of making a snarky comeback when, upon looking around the room, it occurred to him that the General wasn't there.

"Fury's not joining us today," Dallia explained, and if Zell didn't know better, he'd say her expression was more scheming than not. "We didn't want to make a big deal out of this. I'm just going to make a short statement and there will be no questions."

"Is that the best way to handle this?" Zell mused. Personally, he didn't think the press were going to take Dallia at her word, especially if she didn't even give them the chance to put up some questions, but then, what did he know?

"What are you going to tell them?" Seifer asked coolly.

"Come on, it's time," she replied instead of answering, and waved them to follow her to the front of the room, where there was a mic and a few chairs set up. "Now, just stand next to me and try to look like you know what's going on," she instructed.

Seifer shot Zell an apprehensive look, which he returned, feeling more uneasy than reassured by Dallia's remarks. However, he did as she said, pasting on a smile and feeling a bit queasy as he watched people crowding up to the front of the room, a veritable mob of paparazzi. Seifer, on Dallia's other side, had shed his sunglasses but was looking a little less than peak himself, although to his credit his expression was perfectly calm and unassuming. Cameras flashed and the chatter died down as Dallia tapped the mic with her fingernail, letting the crowd's attention settle on her.

"Hello," she said, as if to test the sound. "Oh. Hello, everyone. Thanks for coming."

She paused, smoothing out her skirt and flashing grins to the reporters. Zell shot another look over at Seifer, but the other man was now apparently absorbed in doing what Dallia had said and feigning nonchalance.

"Now," Dallia went on, still smiling brightly, "you all know why you're here, of course, but I'll bet you want to hear what I've got to say. The truth is, it was supposed to be a secret until next month, but I don't want you all running around with the wrong idea."

There was a small murmur from the crowd, and Zell tried not to scoff. He didn't know what Dallia was planning but he had a feeling that putting the wrong idea in their heads was just the sort of thing she'd find great enjoyment in.

"You all, I'm sure, know my associates - Seifer Almasy," she said, waving a hand toward Seifer, and then turning to Zell, "and Zell Dincht, both SeeDs at Balamb Garden. Some of you may be aware that I've been in the planning stages of a new Garden that would be located in Esthar. The boys have been a great help to me in the development of this project."

Seifer managed to turn a sneer into a tight half-grin as Dallia turned to him with a sunny smile on her face. Zell's cheeks were beginning to hurt from the expression he had plastered on, but Dallia wasn't done yet; a moment later, over the gentle muttering of the audience, she declared, "also, I'm very pleased to say that, after weeks of pestering, I have finally convinced Mr. Almasy to come and teach for me. I'm happy to announce that he will be one of the first instructors at my new Garden."

A silence fell over the room; not even a camera clicked. Zell was afraid to turn and see what kind of expression Seifer was sporting as the quiet stretched painfully on. Not a question was asked. Dallia took timely advantage of the silence to add, "that's all for today, thank you everyone for coming! No, no questions," she said as the crowd erupted with talk, all of them pressing forward with mics and cameras until Zell worried they were going to be smothered. "You'll have to wait for the official press release next month for all the details! This was just a teaser, you understand; now don't go making me spill anything I shouldn't!"

She laughed as though the whole thing were a joke, and took Zell and Seifer by an arm each to lead them out of the room by a back door. Two burly security guards at the door stopped them being followed, but they could hear the chatter of the crowd even as they made their way down the dark, lonely corridor toward the back of the hotel.

"That went very well, didn't it?" Dallia said cheerfully, ignoring Zell's expression of speechless shock. "That will give them something to gossip about for a while."

Over her shoulder, Zell shot Seifer a look of bafflement; Seifer returned it, appearing equally as bewildered and stunned as Zell himself was. They both let Dallia pull them along, lost for ideas as to what to do now. Seifer's expression made it clear that he was thinking on the same lines as Zell: Dallia was undeniably, certifiably insane...


	18. Chapter 18

It was just after midnight that Seifer finally got back to the room. He staggered toward the couch in the dark and flopped ungracefully down, feeling exhausted; he was somewhat less than sober, but that wasn't the reason. It was just like old times: he was once again the most hated person at any given event, and Dallia's cocktail party tonight had been no exception. She'd more or less ordered him not to answer any questions or say anything at all about Garden - which he wouldn't have done anyway, not being terribly inclined in general to talk to people at all - but it still made for an unpleasant night trying to make safe, boring smalltalk with a bunch of Dallia's increasingly drunk girlfriends. To make it worse, Zell had bailed early on him, leaving him alone with the socialites for nearly an hour before he could make his escape.

It almost made him long for home. Compared to this last week in Galbadia, being bored to death at Garden where only, perhaps, 99% of the inhabitants really hated him was a fantasy. If he had to hear one more too-loudly-whispered remark on his and Dallia's _relationship_, or see that knowing smirk on some horse-faced heiress' lips, or dodge questions from one more greasy, grinning journalist -

He sighed, and sat up to pull off his boots. It was just one more day. Tomorrow night - or, rather, tonight - would be their last night in Deling City and the next day they'd be catching the early train out of this shithole. The sooner the better, Seifer thought personally.

Dallia had decided she wanted to throw a costume ball for her going-away bash; Seifer had decided that the only possible reason for her to want to do such a thing must be to make him suffer as much as humanly possible. True, he and Zell didn't have to dress up, but just having to endure the length of it was going to be about as much as Seifer could bear. But still - just one more night. Then it would be back to Garden, where, if he wasn't immediately fired, he'd spend the rest of his life doing the lowliest work Squall could dig up from under a rock for him. At least there was something to look forward to.

He kicked his boots to the side of the couch and started at the buttons on his jacket. All in all, the entire month spent in Galbadia had been a complete failure and an utter waste of time. Well... he glanced back toward the other room. This past week, Zell had been colder than the breath of Shiva, but up until then, Seifer thought he'd been making progress. That stupid drinking game hadn't been in the plan, and it had screwed things up. He wanted to be straight with Zell - no pun intended - he really did, but the martial artist was so antagonistic, and it just wasn't in Seifer's nature to be sincere. But the two of them were in agreement about one thing: the games were getting old.

He really only had himself to blame. He'd spent years getting under Zell's skin, so why shouldn't the other man distrust him now? Zell thought Seifer was trying to prove some kind of a point - trying to get him to admit that he wanted Seifer, just for the twisted fun of it. He couldn't have been more wrong, but it was beside the point anyway, because even if Seifer told him the truth, he wouldn't believe it. Hell, Seifer didn't want to believe it himself.

He shrugged off his coat and hung it over the back of the couch. Then he looked again toward the bed, where Zell was passed out on top of the covers, snoring softly. The silly twit hadn't even undressed; his boots were laying on the bed next to him as he slept still in full SeeD dress. Seifer shook his head in wonder. The fact that he found Zell's ditziness endearing more than annoying baffled him. Fuujin was going to laugh her eyepatch off when she heard about this. "Zell," Seifer said in a low tone, unbuttoning his shirt and walking to the bathroom with it in hand. "Get up. Don't sleep in your uniform."

He put his shirt on a hanger and brushed his teeth, and then went back out only to find that Zell hadn't budged, and apparently hadn't even heard him. He sighed again. "Zell," he repeated louder, walking to the edge of the bed. "Wake up. Don't fall asleep in your uniform... Zell," he raised his voice, reaching over to shake the other man by the shoulder. Zell lifted a hand to swat at him.

"What?"

"Take off your uniform," Seifer said again, grumbling. Zell rolled over and then sat up, muttering something unintelligible and looking groggy. He kicked his boots off the end of the bed and then began to fumble with his buttons.

Seifer went back to the bathroom to change into pajamas, and then returned, switching off the bathroom light as he exited. "Are you drunk?" he asked, not trying to hide his amusement. Zell scoffed at the question.

"I'm not," he said snippily, but Seifer could hear him scrabbling with the fastener on his shoulder plate. "You could turn back on the light, though."

"I'm going to bed," Seifer replied, and he heard Zell scoff again. A moment later, the martial artist was cursing Seifer under his breath, clearly having believed that he'd gone back to the couch - Seifer grinned in the dark; maybe Zell was a little too trusting where it counted. There was a clinking sound as Zell finally divested himself of his armor, and then a thud as he dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. Seifer leaned in close behind him, smiling to himself. "Need any help?" he murmured in Zell's ear.

"No!"

"You sure?" he added, but it wasn't really intended to be a question; dodging the hand that Zell was trying to swat him away with, he pushed the other man down and slid on top of him to kiss him. Zell didn't offer any resistance - not, at this point, that Seifer expected any; but still, he hadn't made a move on Zell since that night a week ago, and there was every possibility that the martial artist might just put him out of commission for good, as he'd made it perfectly clear that he wasn't about to tolerate any more of Seifer's messing around.

Seifer fancied his intentions were pretty honorable - there was no hidden agenda, whatever Zell might think; it was simply that he was going nuts with lust for the idiot. No, it was even more than that - he wanted Zell in every way. More and more, he was finding Zell's continued refusal to even be friends with him inexplicably frustrating. The more Seifer tried to edge his way into Zell's life, the tighter Zell held shut the door to his heart. _I suppose it's going to take longer than a month to undo fifteen or more years of hostility,_ Seifer thought.

"Hey," Zell said, breaking off the kiss after a minute or two to push Seifer away, but his expression - what Seifer could see of it in the dark - didn't at all match his accusatory tone. "Stop it," he said lowly.

Seifer sighed, but backed off. "Fine," he grumbled, rolling off Zell to the other side of the bed, and laying there for a moment, feeling rather put out. Even if it was a half-hearted and mostly obligatory protest, there was no point in pushing Zell if the other man was going to continue to resist. Seifer didn't want to coerce him, after all. Zell, on his side of the bed, sat up, and was silent for a minute.

"You stopped," he said, sounding puzzled. Seifer figured he was a little drunk, despite his earlier protest to the idea.

"You said to stop."

"I'm glad you're finally learning," Zell huffed. Seifer watched in the dark as he unbuttoned his jacket and stood to hang it over the back of a chair, and then came back to the bed. He seemed surprised to find Seifer still there, and said suspiciously, "aren't you going to bed?"

"I'm in bed," Seifer replied cheekily.

"_Your_ bed."

"I'd hardly call that thing a bed," he said, nodding toward the battered couch in the other room, which hadn't been in good shape to begin with, and had taken enough abuse from the grouchy gunblader over the past four weeks to render it in need of some serious repair.

"Well, you're not sleeping here," Zell said, crossing his arms adamantly.

"What does it matter? There's plenty of room." Seifer sat up and twisted halfway around, sorting through the pile of pillows behind him until he found a suitably plush one, and tossing the rest onto the floor. Zell, meanwhile, sat hesitantly on the edge of the mattress, his expression in the dim light looking wary. "I'm not going to try anything, if that's what you're worried about," Seifer added after a moment to reassure the other man. "I'm not that stupid. I'd prefer to return to Garden with all my limbs intact."

Zell was sitting on the bed now, but he still looked skeptical. "Almasy..." he began.

"Seifer."

"What?" Zell said in confusion.

"It's my name," Seifer said tightly, feeling irritated. "You can use it, you know."

Zell looked perplexed, staring at Seifer for a long moment or two in the dark. "That's a little familiar, isn't it?"

Seifer almost laughed, just at the other man's baffled tone. It had clearly never even occurred to Zell that perhaps being familiar was what Seifer was aiming for. "We've known each other for fifteen years," he said. "We grew up together. We went to school together. We've been _living_ together for a month. Not to mention," he added, although he was rather pleased to be able to mention it, "we've made out a dozen times over the past couple of weeks. I think, Zell, that we're pretty familiar already."

"Whatever," Zell huffed when this little speech was finished, gathering up the pillows Seifer had discarded and piling them at the head of the bed, forming a strange sort of pillow cocoon around him. "Fine. Just do whatever you want," he said crossly.

"Whatever I want?" Seifer mused. "Don't give me such freedom."

"Shut up," Zell snipped. "If you're going to yap all night you can go back to your couch. I want to sleep."

He settled down into his nest of pillows without another word, and Seifer silently acquiesced. He wasn't, however, at all tired; he lay for some time simply thinking, and staring up at the dark ceiling, criss-crossed with thin beams of streetlight that seeped in around the shade on the window. On the other side of the bed, he could hear Zell fidgeting restlessly; the other man wasn't sleeping, either. What irony - he finally managed to climb his way into Zell's bed, and there may as well have been a brick wall standing between them for Zell's attitude. Had this been a month ago, even a week ago, Seifer would have scaled that wall with ease and took what he wanted with force; Zell would have resisted, but he wanted Seifer just as badly as Seifer wanted him and that was a fact. Well, maybe not _quite_ as much... Seifer found he was more desperate than he'd like to admit.

Beside him, he could hear Zell muttering grumpily. "Too bloody familiar, that's what," he said; this comment was clearly aimed at Seifer, who grinned in the dark.

"What's that?"

"I said, you're too bloody familiar already," Zell declared, sitting up in bed. He was wide awake and, from the tone of his voice, spoiling for a fight. "I'm glad this stupid mission is nearly over. I've had quite enough of your brand of familiarity."

Still smiling to himself, Seifer sat back, leaning on his elbows. Whether or not Zell could see his expression in the low light, he recognized that the other man was trying to provoke him, and he refused to be ruffled. "That's too bad," was all he said, trying to sound casual. "I was thinking that we could get more... familiar."

"Not interested."

"You don't even know-"

"I know exactly what you were gonna say," Zell interrupted crossly. "You always say the same thing. Let me tell you, the joke's wearing thin. Now if you're not going to shut up, you can bloody well find somewhere else to sleep."

Seifer didn't bother to point out that Zell was the one who had started talking. He was clearly picking a fight - probably with the aim of having an excuse to kick Seifer out of the bed, although it didn't seem to have occurred to him that he didn't need an excuse - and Seifer, for once, didn't feel like obliging. There was nothing to be gained from fighting any more; what he rather wanted to do was shock Zell. He hesitated for a moment - there was, after all, no taking back the words once he said them - but only a brief moment, before replying, "what makes you think I'm joking?"

There was a short, strained pause before Zell said back, "well... aren't you joking?"

"What I am, Zell," Seifer shot back - not giving himself time to think about it; just talking, "is getting desperate. This ridiculous stalemate we're in is driving me mad. I want you so badly that I can't think straight about it anymore."

He was glad the room was dark; he could feel his face burning up, and he _never_ blushed. Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. What had possessed him to admit that? He didn't even dare look over to see what expression Zell was sporting in response to what was undeniably the most awkward and embarrassing moment they'd had between them so far... although there was something else: something almost imperceptible, that Seifer couldn't help but notice was almost like relief - relief at one of them having fucking _finally_ given in; and Seifer tried not to dwell on the fact that it had in the end been him, because honestly he was beyond caring, as long as it helped to move their stunted relationship forward a little. He was ready for some progress; if that involved him mortifying himself a bit, then that was the price he'd pay for finally getting somewhere with Zell.

That is, if he _was_ in fact getting anywhere - because a very long couple of moments had passed now without a response from the other man, and Seifer was beginning to feel very much like an idiot. He wasn't generally prone to bouts of self-consciousness, and he didn't like the feeling. There was no way that Zell hadn't heard him; therefore, the other man could only be withholding a response for two reasons: either he was trying to be cruel by intentionally making Seifer endure the agony of waiting - in which case, he was doing an excellent job - or he was so stunned by the confession that he couldn't come up with a reply; but that would imply that Zell had genuinely not realized how utterly into him Seifer really was, and Seifer was almost certain that the martial artist wasn't that thick... almost.

"Well," Zell said eventually, but that was all he said. Seifer couldn't read his tone, but his voice was slightly muffled - a moment later, Seifer realized that this was because he had clamped his hand over his mouth and was clearly trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. He was shaking with laughter, but that didn't stop him from dodging the pillow that Seifer flung at him a moment later.

"What are you laughing at?!"

"You really had me going for a minute there," Zell managed to get out between gasps for breath. Seifer was momentarily dumbstruck. Zell really didn't believe him - didn't, apparently, even seem able to consider the notion that he was being absolutely serious. Seifer knew he had brought that on himself, of course, with years of dicking around; but it still rankled. Enough was enough, he decided; it was high time Zell started taking him seriously.

He slid over to the other side of the bed, pushing past Zell's pillow barricade and pinning the other man down in a swift movement. "Are you being thick on purpose?"

"I'm not _thick_."

"Then it _is_ deliberate," he said lowly, feeling irritated more than he'd like to admit by Zell's nonchalant attitude. Here he was pouring his heart out (in a manner of speaking; he was quite aware that it was not an art he had yet mastered, but he was dong his best, wasn't he?) and Zell was brushing him off. "I've tried every fucking trick in the book and you just keep playing dumb. I don't know what else I can do."

Even in the darkness, he could see Zell's smirk, his teeth bared in an expression of triumph. "What are you, twelve?" he asked, scoffing. "Tricks are for kids with schoolyard crushes. Try being a man."

There it was - the challenge. Seifer grinned to himself. He never had been one to back away from a dare, after all. "Just take what I want, I suppose?"

"Something like that."

"What I want is you," he murmured, leaning down until the space between them had all but vanished. Zell only continued to smile, his expression unchanging.

"Well, why didn't you say so sooner?"

"Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?" Seifer growled.

"I can't help it. It comes naturally," Zell replied.

"You can shut up now."

"Why don't _you_ shut up now?"

"Why don't we both shut up?" Seifer offered as a suggestion, growing impatient. Zell was clearly determined to be cheeky, and his grin showed that he was enjoying every moment of frustration Seifer was enduring because of it. So Seifer shut him up the best way he knew how - closing the distance between them with a kiss that was as smooth as it was forceful. Zell offered no resistance; all of his objections, along with his bad mood, seemed to have vanished completely as soon as Seifer had admitted to his desire. Seifer reflected with some irritation on the fact that Zell's pride - or at least his willpower - had outlasted his own. _What possessed me to start falling in love with this idiot?_ he thought to himself crossly.

He didn't waste much time pondering it, however; his thoughts were soon occupied with other things... like how good it felt to finally have Zell underneath him, and how little surprised he was by the eagerness with which the other man was pressing up against him. Of course, he knew Zell had wanted him too; that had been obvious for some time. They had just been, aptly enough, playing chicken with each other - who'd have thought that Seifer would turn out to be the real chicken here? Well, at least Zell wasn't gloating - Seifer wasn't sure he could take that - but then, that could have been because his tongue was currently better occupied.

Zell might have been small in stature, but he was built solid; and the feeling of his body pressed against Seifer's, every last inch of him hard and muscled, was exhilarating. Seifer almost felt embarrassed for being more turned on than he'd ever been in his life; he couldn't remember ever having wanted someone as much as he wanted Zell right now. Granted, his relationship history was not exactly an anthology - before the war, there had only been Rinoa, and afterward, well, the class of people who tended to have any interest in an ex-knight war criminal were a little too low on the spectrum even for someone as pathetic as Seifer. Suffice to say sexual encounters had been few and far between. Even so, they'd all been girls; Zell was very much not that, as was more and more evident with each passing moment, each new sensation - the firmness of his body against Seifer's, his hand on the back of Seifer's neck, the hardness pressing against Seifer's thigh as Zell slipped one leg between his. _Well, color me gay, then,_ he thought privately, finding that he didn't care one whit about it - besides, it wasn't as if he was the only one; not if the way that Zell was arching up toward him and grinding his hips was any indication.

"Hey," Seifer said a minute or two later, pulling back to catch his breath - and to clear his head, which was feeling hot. Zell, beneath him - oh, how _good_ those words sounded in his head - looked up at him curiously, still clutching his shirt with one fist, the other curled around his shoulder, holding him close.

"What?"

"Nothing," Seifer replied, shaking his head. He'd been about to ask if Zell really wanted to do this, but he was glad he'd stopped himself - Zell would probably take it as an insult anyway, and besides, there was some chance that he might _actually_ say no... in which case, Seifer might actually, literally die. (Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration; but it was only a slight one.) So, instead of asking, he reclaimed Zell's lips in a kiss that had the other man moaning until he himself broke away a few moments later.

"What do you mean, nothing?" Zell said, but neither his tone nor his expression were accusatory; rather, with his wet lips and the heavy-lidded gaze he was staring up at Seifer with, he seemed suddenly the most erotic thing Seifer had ever seen.

"I said nothing," he shot back, hoping he didn't sound as affected as he was by the sight of Zell; what right did the martial artist have to look so good like that? Even the dreams that he would never admit to having about Zell didn't compare to this. Every sensation was more acute: from the quiet, breathy sounds Zell made, to the heat of his body, pressed against the length of him - he was effortlessly, and obliviously, driving Seifer mad with lust. Zell didn't even have the slightest idea how crazy he was making Seifer over him. At this juncture, that was probably for the better, as Seifer neither wanted to nor could think of a plausible way to explain it, but it was still pretty pathetic for his part. He was falling utterly to pieces over the chicken-wuss, and he'd been deluding himself so well over the past few weeks that he didn't even realize it himself until now.

"Now you're being weird," Zell remarked, sitting up and leaning on his elbows. Seifer, too, sat up, moving back, and feeling rather like an idiot - why did he have to start thinking now? Surely his ironic introspection could have waited until tomorrow morning? He shook his head again, trying to shake off the train of thought and focus on what was important right now, which was to not fuck up what might be the only opportunity he'd ever have to get Zell to succumb to him.

"There's no pleasing you, is there?" he asked in response, grinning at Zell, who appeared puzzled by his change of mood. "When I act like normal, you tell me to shut up. When I try to be nice, you say it's weird."

"At what point were you trying to be nice?" Zell said suspiciously.

Seifer, still smirking, slid forward, nudging himself between the other man's legs. He leaned in close, and Zell settled back into the pillows, a slow grin growing on his face. "Somewhere around here?" Seifer replied, slipping his hand down Zell's torso and toward the bulge between his legs. Zell gasped at the touch, but it was somewhat muffled, as Seifer had taken the opportunity to steal another kiss, eagerly swallowing Zell's stifled moans as he rubbed at the smaller blond's erection through the barrier of his pants.

"Arrogant fuck," Zell growled, pushing Seifer away just long enough to yank his shirt up over his head, throwing it somewhere off to the side. Then he grabbed at Seifer's tee-shirt and gave it the same quick treatment.

"There's a saying about leopards and spots, you know," Seifer remarked, ruffling his hair as the shirt slid off over his head.

"Blah, blah," Zell said, slinging an arm around Seifer's shoulders. "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

"Since when do I - mmh," Seifer began, but was interrupted by Zell pulling him in for a kiss. "Since when do I take orders from you?" he asked, when after a couple of heated moments he was finally able to untangle his tongue from Zell's.

"Well, I do believe I am the senior officer in this room."

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that one," Seifer purred, while Zell grinned up at him. Zell had only been joking - probably - but still, he wasn't going to be that cheeky and get away with it. Seifer was in charge here and Zell was going to know it. The look of surprise on his face as Seifer abruptly left him to move down his body, crawling backwards over the bed until he was level with Zell's hips, was a good start.

His expression went quickly from surprise to puzzlement, and he looked as though he wanted to ask Seifer what the hell he thought he was doing, but he didn't even get the chance. In less than a moment, Seifer had the front of his pants undone and was folding the fly back to reveal the erection that was pushing at the front of Zell's boxer briefs. Before Zell could get a word out, Seifer leaned down, pressing his mouth to the fabric and feeling the warm, hard flesh beneath, and whatever Zell had been about to say disintegrated into a long, helpless moan, which ended with something that might have been a curse but sounded suspiciously like Seifer's name. The thought of it sent a sharp spike of lust straight to his core - god, it seemed like forever that he'd been waiting to hear Zell moan his name like that. He wanted to hear it again.

Well, there was one sure way to make Zell writhe, and Seifer was on the right track already. Zell was squirming in his hands, and he nearly jumped clear out of the bed when Seifer pulled down the front of his shorts to release his cock, taking the hot, hard shaft in his hand. Above him, Zell had his eyes screwed shut, one hand clamped over his mouth, through which he was groaning, the other hand grasping at the sheets with desperate fingers. This was just the way Seifer wanted him - wild, needy, unrestrained. He was going to make Zell lose his mind.

He didn't give himself time to think twice. He'd never exactly done this before, but he knew what felt good, and besides, Zell was already going nuts, and he was barely touching him. When he leaned forward and took the head of Zell's cock into his mouth, the other man made the most desperate noise he'd ever heard; Seifer decided to be kind for once and dispense with teasing. He slid his mouth down the warm flesh, absolutely reveling in the way Zell went to pieces. He would never in his life have thought that the idea of sucking another man's dick would turn him on - but then, he'd never been physically attracted to a man before, and certainly never been attracted to anyone as much as he was to Zell, in every way. There was something hugely appealing in knowing that he had Zell completely at his mercy right now, and that Zell probably knew it, too - that was, if he could process a valid thought; he was clearly having trouble processing words, as the only ones coming out of his mouth were half-formed at best and mostly sounded like moans of Seifer's name. One of his hands had found a place in Seifer's hair, and he was pulling none-too-gently at it, his fingers flexing and relaxing by alternate turns. Whether or not he would admit it, the other man definitely had a thing for hair-pulling. If he hadn't been so focused on what he was doing, Seifer might have got up and slapped him, but the fact that Zell was rendered incoherent by his ministrations was both flattering and unbelievably sexy. He _knew_ Zell had been hot for him, but having some visual proof was gratifying.

"Seifer," Zell gasped, suddenly regaining control of his vocal abilities as Seifer dragged his tongue up the length of his shaft, stopping to pay special attention to the soft spot on the underside of the head, which had Zell shuddering. "Seifer," he repeated, a slight whine to his tone that indicated desperation. "Seifer, stop. Stop. _Stop_."

Seifer ignored him, preferring for the time being to continue what he was doing - which was evidently torturing Zell. Even more than usual, Seifer was enjoying it - teasing Zell into a speechless rage with juvenile antics was fun, but teasing him into incoherency in this fashion was even more so. The taste of Zell's skin and the sound of his voice as he whimpered, forcing back a groan, were even better than Seifer could have dreamed - and had dreamed. There were things that even his imagination, which had been vivid over the past few weeks, couldn't have told him, like the way Zell's voice went up an octave when Seifer sucked gently on his balls, and then back down into a low purr as he moved his ministrations up toward the head of his cock - Seifer would have guessed the other man to be more vocal, swearing and cursing and making those kinds of vague threats he usually did whenever Seifer got the better of him; but his quiet, breathy, self-restrained sounds were sexy too, in a surprising but not unpleasant way.

"Seifer," Zell said again, pushing on his shoulder to try and get his attention. When that failed, his next recourse was to whack Seifer upside the head, which, though lacking romance, at least had the effect of dislodging the gunblader from his dick.

"What?"

Zell grabbed him by the hair with both hands and pulled him back up the bed until they were face-to-face again. There was just enough light in the room for Seifer to see that his face was flushed all over, and his hands, gripping the back of Seifer's neck, were shaking. "If you keep that up, I'm gonna come," he said, in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper. It was his tone that decided Seifer on the matter for good - a tone so unlike what Seifer was used to, a tone that conveyed nothing so much as an utter and absolute surrender - and he leaned in to steal a long, slow, soft kiss, not breaking away until Zell was groaning so deeply he could feel the vibrations in his chest.

_I'm definitely in love with this idiot,_ Seifer thought to himself, and he felt like sighing.

"That was kind of the point, dear," he said in response to Zell's remark, hoping his smirk was visible in the dark. He'd wager yes as he watched Zell's eyebrows come together in preparation for a scowl, but he didn't get that far before Seifer slipped a thigh between his still-spread legs, sneaking his arm around Zell's back to pull him closer, pressing the whole length of their bodies together. Whatever Zell had been about to say emerged as a quiet, breathy sound that was half a moan and half a sigh of relief. His reaction perfectly reflected Seifer's own sentiments; the sensation of full-body contact was exhilarating and was almost enough to undo him, with as long as it felt like he'd been waiting for this to finally happen. Days, weeks - he couldn't even remember when he started wanting this so desperately; only that now that he had Zell right where he wanted him, a lot of other things suddenly seemed really unimportant. The way Zell was gripping his arm with white-knuckled fingers and the overwhelming sense of pressure from the point where their hips touched, rubbing and grinding, were suddenly the most important things in Seifer's universe, and all of his ridiculous worries - indeed, all of his thoughts in general - faded into the background like so many dull stars.

"Seifer," Zell said his name again, his voice so low it was barely more than a breath. His grip on Seifer's bicep tightened to the point of being painful - Seifer might have thought the other man was trying to break his arm, if this were a fight, but it wasn't in any way like a fight. In fact, Seifer reckoned they'd never been more in sync with each other than they were right now, with both of their thoughts clearly focused on the same thing; that was obvious enough as Zell pushed up ever more against him, thrusting to match the slow rhythm that Seifer had built, his bared erection rubbing against Seifer's still-clothed one.

Seifer lifted himself up just a bit, loathe to allow any space at all to open up between them, but he only needed a small opening to slip his hand down between their bodies. His pajama pants were becoming a hindrance, and he yanked the front of them down to free his cock, groaning at the amazing sensation of skin against skin as Zell ground up against him. He didn't even have time to register how good it felt, however, before suddenly Zell's hand was there, his small but strong fingers wrapping around both of their erections. Seifer let out a sharp breath, his hips jerking forward into Zell's touch.

"Christ, but your hands are cold," he said, and Zell chuckled, a low rumble in the back of his throat.

"All the blood musta gone to me head," he said, slinging his free arm around Seifer's shoulders and pulling himself up, closing the space between them again. Seifer might have laughed at that, except his breath vanished in the next moment as Zell began to pump his hand with quick, smooth movements. Seifer briefly marveled over the fact that it was the same hand that had given him countless black eyes over the years, the fist that had cracked his ribs and bruised his jaw, that had flipped him the bird more times than he even knew - that hand, all calloused palms and an almost-too-strong grip, that was making him feel light-headed with pleasure now, stroking him with rough fingertips and an uneven rhythm that was the product of desperation - because it was clear that Zell was close, ready to fall over the edge into bliss, and Seifer was there, too. He pressed his face into the crook of Zell's shoulder, taking in his scent, the slightly minty smell of his shampoo, and the salty tang of his skin.

"Ohh, god... Seifer," Zell said, the last a whisper as his voice broke, and Seifer felt the other man's body tense beneath him as he came, throwing his head back. He didn't speak, only breathing deeply; but even the sound of his breathing was erotic to Seifer, who took the opportunity of having Zell's neck bared to leave a deep bite imprint at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Then, with Zell's hand still curled tightly around his dick, he came, thrusting into the other man's grip until he was spent.

He came to his senses slowly, head spinning as he tried to form a thought. The only sound he could hear was that of Zell's breathing, which was slow and heavy beneath him. He didn't know when he'd ever come so hard - certainly not on his own, fantasizing about Zell in the shower and feeling like a loser for not being able to make a proper move on him. Well, he'd finally done something right for once - and how! Zell stirred underneath him, making a low purring sound in his throat.

"Okay, let me be the first one to say _holy shit_," he murmured, sounding breathless. His tone was so deep and utterly sexual that it made Seifer want to devour him; he settled for pushing himself up so that he was level with the other man, and capturing his lips in a long, languid kiss that lasted until they both had run out of breath.

"Did you have to punch me in the head?" Seifer asked, propping himself up on his elbows as he slid off Zell and to the side, his leg still hooked around the martial artist's. If Zell noted this uncharacteristic display of clinginess, he didn't mention it; but Seifer was reluctant to put too much space between them. Now that he was feeling a little more clear-headed, he wasn't entirely assured that Zell wouldn't just fuck off out of his life once he got that confession out of him - but even more than that, he simply liked being close to the other man; being able to feel the heat of his body, the beat of his pulse, which was still quick, but calming.

To his credit, Zell did look a little chagrined at the reminder. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, reaching up to touch Seifer's temple where he'd whacked him. "I guess it was like... a reflex or something."

"No wonder you never get laid, if that's how you react toward anyone who approaches your dick," Seifer remarked.

Zell shot him a half-hearted glare, and gave him another slap upside the head, albeit a much more light and playful one. "It was reflexive toward you acting like an asshole... asshole," he muttered petulantly, sounding defensive. Seifer supposed he had to cut him some slack for custom; it was probably second nature to Zell to hit Seifer without even thinking twice about it.

"You keep calling me that. Is that your idea of a pet name or something?" he said in response, teasing again. Zell huffed, but even his irritation only sounded half-hearted.

"I call an ass when I see an ass," he replied coolly. "Don't think I'm forgetting all the shit you've pulled the past couple weeks. That still makes you an ass in my book."

He paused, and Seifer reflected on that. He'd almost forgotten that Zell more or less hated him, despite the physical attraction. And that was understandable, seeing as he'd spent much of the last fifteen years or so making a concerted effort to keep Zell in a perpetual state of rage, and by comparison, had only been trying to undo some of that for a few short weeks. A moment later, however, Zell cleared his throat, and added in a tone slightly sheepish, "if it's any consolation, you're definitely the hottest ass I've ever slept with."

This statement was so grudgingly given that Seifer had to laugh, but secretly, he was a little pleased at the sentiment, which seemed designed to apologize just a bit for the harshness of the previous one. Zell was making an effort, and that was at least a step in the direction Seifer wanted to be taking. "I guess it's something," he admitted with a sigh, which had Zell rolling his eyes at his dramatics. He wasn't biting at any of Seifer's taunts, but teasing was still fun - in fact, Seifer felt oddly light-hearted at the moment, which was an unfamiliar emotion, and only emphasized how unlike himself he was acting. Just because he was, for some inexplicable reason, crazy about Zell, didn't mean he had to act like such a sap. Imagine getting happy over something as small as Zell apologizing - half-apologizing, really. But there it was - how was he supposed to act, anyhow? Being himself like usual seemed like a doomed effort, as Zell clearly was never going to realize that his teasing and baiting were meant to convey affection (of course, Seifer had never really realized that himself, either.) Some effort had to be made, right?

_This whole love business really blows,_ he thought to himself crossly.

Zell was watching him now, looking thoughtful, and Seifer tried to arrange his features into something resembling composure. "So, what are we going to do about that violent streak of yours?" he asked, breaking the quiet that had settled between them over a few minutes. Zell cocked his head to one side, giving him a long, speculative look, one eyebrow going up at the question.

"You could try not acting like a dick," he offered, flashing a crooked grin.

"I considered that, but it doesn't seem like much fun," Seifer retorted, matching Zell's smile with a smirk of his own. Then, in one smooth movement, he swung one leg over Zell's hips and straddled him, at the same time grabbing both of Zell's wrists and holding them above his head. "I could tie you up," Seifer suggested, grinning down at the other man, who, unfazed, mirrored his expression.

"I'd like to see you try it."

"I'm tempted. But maybe later," was all Seifer said in response, and he leaned down to press a kiss to Zell's lips, which started out gently and very quickly grew heated. He was still pinning Zell down but the martial artist wasn't fighting against him; he was pressing up against Seifer, seeking more of that contact which Seifer wasn't at all hesitant to bestow. "Besides," he added a minute later, when they broke apart and he had caught his breath, "I'd rather have you free just at the moment. I'm interested in finding out what else you can do with your hands."

Zell's grin grew wide, the whiteness of his teeth glinting up at Seifer in the low light. "For starters..." he said, trailing off teasingly. Seifer waited a moment for the rest of that sentence, but Zell's next move was to throw Seifer off of him, which he did quickly and smoothly, breaking Seifer's grip on his wrists with a motion so casual it was almost embarrassing, and then flipping him over onto the bed so that their positions were reversed. Seifer's head collided with the wall behind him, and he lost focus for a second or two, blinking away stars. "Oh, shit," Zell said, his expression - once Seifer's vision swam back into place - half-pained and half-mortified. "Sorry. Oops."

"Oops, huh?" Seifer repeated dumbly, as Zell reached around to cradle the back of his head gently. He was taking quite a bit of abuse in this pursuit of Zell - not that he regretted any of it. "Man. Oww. If I'd known what a dangerous endeavor this was going to turn out to be, I'd have given up on you weeks ago."

Something like puzzlement passed over Zell's expression, but after a moment, it softened again, and he leaned close to Seifer, smiling a little. "But god, am I glad you didn't," he said quietly. His tone, low and throaty, went straight to Seifer's cock, as did the kiss that Zell stole a moment later; that and the feeling of his body pressed close to Seifer's were enough to render the pain in his head utterly insignificant. "I'll make it up to you," Zell said.

"It's going to take some doing," Seifer shot back, rubbing his aching head with an exaggerated wince. Rather than another roll of the eyes, however, Zell's response was a sly grin, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth to run across his lower lip in a way that made Seifer's heart skip a beat.

"It's a good thing we've got all night, then," he replied, and then leaned in again, and Seifer stopped thinking for a long while. 

* * *

Seifer woke up slowly as the sun began to creep into the room late in the morning. He squinted up at the bright white of the ceiling for long time before he could recall when he felt so unusually happy this early in the day. His head was pounding like a drum, and worsened as he sat up, trying not to look at the too-bright beams of sunlight soaking through the window. His left arm ached, and he looked down at the handprint-shaped bruise encircling his bicep. Remembering how it got there brought a grin to his lips, despite the pain in his head. It was the second time he'd woken up in Zell's bed feeling like he'd had his ass kicked thoroughly the night before, but it was a damn sight more pleasant than the first time.

He stretched, and sat for a while blinking against the sunlight, until his headache subsided a little. He had a feeling it was as much because he'd awoken too early as because of the punch Zell had given him last night, but of that he couldn't even be certain, as the clock that normally stood on the bedside table was conspicuously missing this morning - laying somewhere on the floor, he shouldn't wonder. In fact, most of the bedclothes and the multitude of pillows that Zell had so amusingly failed to barricade himself in with the night before were scattered about the floor, some at a good distance; it looked like a tornado had passed through. Or, perhaps, like they'd had one of their signature brawls, which was actually a pretty accurate way to describe the whole encounter. It wasn't as though he'd expected the experience of sleeping with Zell to be all sweet and affectionate - nor did he at all want such a thing - but things had only gotten wilder as the night progressed, only finally coming to a close as dawn approached and they were both too exhausted to even stay awake any longer. Seifer didn't know how long he'd slept, but it couldn't have been more than a few hours; he still felt exhausted - fucking Zell was like trying to tame some kind of wild animal: the longer he fought, the more out-of-control he got. Seifer savored the memory with pleasure. For someone who sure acted like a prude sometimes, Zell was the epitome of pure, raw sexuality when he hopped into bed. Who'd have thought?

He looked down at the sleeping man and watched him for a moment. It was rare that he got a chance to do so; most mornings, Zell was up long before him, being one of those weird early risers - but, of course, this wasn't "most mornings". It was a good thing they didn't have anywhere to go until that evening, because Zell looked dead asleep. He was on his stomach, his arms flung out to each side, breathing softly. His face was covered by his hair, which was a disheveled mess, but his neck, covered in red welts and bite marks, was exposed. He was probably going to pitch a fit when he saw those marks, but at least those he could potion away - he'd have to; even with the high collar of his uniform, some of those marks were bound to show. Seifer did a quick inventory of his own injuries, and concluded he'd probably come off the better; there was just that incriminating handprint, which would be difficult to explain if anyone saw, but who was going to see that?

He got up after a while and headed for the bathroom, reckoning a hot shower would help his disposition some. A glance in the mirror showed that he hadn't been as lucky to escape physical harm as he'd thought; there was a red welt on his left temple courtesy of Zell's fist that his hair, which was getting a little too long for his liking and fell down over his forehead, did nothing to cover. He hoped that every encounter with Zell wasn't going to be so much of a trial - not that it would have deterred him at all; it just would be nice if he could wake up without bruises every once in a while. Nevertheless, he downed a potion for the swelling, and that combined with a very long, very hot shower helped him to feel a good deal better, albeit still rather tired. It was only half past eleven when he returned to the bedroom and managed to locate the table clock, so he decided to follow the lead of his partner, who hadn't moved an inch from the position he'd been in when Seifer left the room, and he went right back to bed.

He awoke again in the afternoon to the smell of coffee filling the room. The sun had moved past the window and the room was in shadow; a look toward the clock confirmed that it was nearing four, and when he ventured to get out of bed, he felt much more well-rested than before. Zell was absent from the bed, which accounted for the tantalizing scent coming his way from the direction of the tiny kitchenette, toward which he gravitated as soon as he had located some trousers.

Zell was sitting at the small table, slumped down in one chair with his head hanging down over the back, his feet up on the other chair. He was wearing a tee-shirt and a baggy pair of sweats, with a still-steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him that didn't look like it had been touched. Seifer wasn't sure if he was awake or not; but he stirred when Seifer entered the kitchen, heading for the coffee pot.

"Oh. I just made that," Zell said groggily, indicating the coffee with a vague wave of his hand.

"You're a saint," Seifer said, but it didn't sound as sarcastic as he meant to, and Zell didn't reply. Neither of them spoke as Seifer poured himself a cup of coffee. It was piping hot and smelled good and strong; Zell usually preferred tea, but when he did make coffee, at least he did it right. Seifer stared at his drink while he tried to think of something to say. He had figured he would have to be the first one to bring last night up, but he hadn't honestly thought it would be so... awkward. Whether or not Zell's reaction would be for or against a continuation of last night's events was hard to say; it was very likely he'd want nothing to do with Seifer again after this mission was over if Seifer played his cards wrong. What if one night - admittedly, one very long and involved night - had been enough for Zell to get over his lust for Seifer? It seemed quite possible, given that he couldn't stand Seifer personally. The gunblader had made an effort to tone down the sarcasm and the jibes last night, but he didn't know if that was enough to start changing Zell's opinion of him.

He took a drink of his coffee and cursed as the hot beverage scalded the roof of his mouth. He was overthinking things. Lately he was doing that a lot, and it was entirely Zell's fault he felt like such an idiot. Somehow the little creep, with his raging violent streak and his adamant refusal to yield even an inch, had wormed his way into Seifer's heart - going, indeed, where no man had gone before. Seifer had never been in such a situation in his life. It hadn't occurred to him until this morning that there was every chance that Zell would be perfectly content to take this one night, this one amazing night, and run with it. That he wasn't at all interested in continuing a relationship of any sort with Seifer. Or even that he might, despite whatever his personal feelings were, pretend that were the case just to finally have one over on Seifer. He wasn't the cruel type at all, but years of hatred could be enough to provoke anyone.

Zell got up from his chair suddenly, startling Seifer out of his depressing reverie. He mentally slapped himself. He was acting like a moron. Speculating was pointless and not like him; he'd better just open the topic with Zell and get it over with. Who knew, maybe Zell would surprise him by being completely for the idea of a further relationship. _Yeah, and maybe pink chocobos will fly out of Squall's ass and serenade us next,_ Seifer thought bitterly to himself. He was about to speak, but Zell beat him to it.

"We probably better get ready," he said, shuffling toward the sink to rinse out his coffee mug. He looked kind of dozy, like he wasn't really with it yet; evidently the coffee hadn't helped. "We're picking Dallia up at six. It's after four already."

"Yeah, sure," Seifer said vaguely. _And by the way, do you fancy the idea of being fuckbuddies? Only 'cos I might have to kill myself if I can't have you again. But no pressure._ Seifer drank his cooling coffee and watched Zell washing his mug with listless movements. He was feeling rather melodramatic today.

After a minute or two of wiping at it with a damp rag, Zell seemed satisfied that the mug was clean, and left it in the sink before moving into the other room. It was strange to see him at such low energy, and Seifer was curious as to the cause of this state - painfully so, because he was sure it had something to do with him. Zell gave a wide yawn as he made his way through the wreckage surrounding the bed, and gathered some clothes from his trunk and a towel. He rubbed his neck as though it were sore, which drew Seifer's attention to the fact that it was interestingly lacking the decorations he'd left there the night before, which was somewhat disappointing even though he knew Zell would never go out with bite marks on his neck.

"So," Seifer began, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen as Zell moved slowly about the room, gathering the pieces of his outfit which had been scattered the night before. "I don't suppose there's anything you want to, um... talk about?"

Zell looked up at him with a slight frown, as if he wasn't sure what Seifer was talking about. "Not in particular," he said, and the casualness of his tone was enough to set Seifer's teeth to grinding. One of the things Seifer really enjoyed about Zell was that he was a terrible actor; he couldn't lie to save his life, and everything he felt showed on his face as plain as day. This backfired on him now, because there was no way Zell could be faking that indifference. "Do you?" he asked.

"No, not really," Seifer replied; he could hear the sharpness in his own voice, but he couldn't stop it from coming out anyway. "I'm glad you understand. Last night was just for the hell of it. I was afraid you might want to have one of those girly, emotional type conversations and make a big deal out of this," he said, studying his coffee as though it were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. He could feel that he was smiling, but in fact he hadn't been so angry in a long while. For fuck's sake, why couldn't he just be honest?

"Guess you thought wrong," was all Zell said in response, holding his pile of clothes and his towel and heading for the bathroom. His face was impassive, and he didn't even sound irritated - but he should have been angry, right? Seifer had just insulted him in an even worse way than usual. But he went into the other room without saying another word, leaving Seifer to stand in the kitchen doorway ready to throw something. So much for making an effort. He was reverting back to full ass mode without even trying, and what was worse was that Zell didn't even seem surprised. He'd probably never once entertained the thought that Seifer would change. Seifer was about ready to march into the bathroom and show him how very wrong he was, when he was saved the effort by Zell sticking his head back out around the doorway.

"You know?" he said, sounding amused, but nothing about his expression was smiling. "I ought to congratulate you. Every time I start to think to myself that there's maybe something good in you, you go right ahead and prove me wrong. Bravo, Seifer. Very well done."

"Oh, fuck you," Seifer snapped back; he was deprived of the chance to spit any more venom, however, by Zell slamming the door shut on him. A moment later came the sound of the shower, and Seifer was tempted, sorely tempted, to barge in there and show Zell who was the boss - that is, if he didn't first fall to his knees and beg Zell to forgive him for being such a dick, because he really couldn't seem to help it. Neither course, he realized, would prove worthwhile; not if Zell was determined to dislike him. So instead, he went into the kitchen, and threw his mug into the sink so hard that it shattered, tiny flecks of porcelain going down the drain with the dregs of his coffee. He took Zell's mug, too, and threw it, just for good measure.

It made him feel a little better. But not much.


	19. Chapter 19, part 1

Zell was beginning to worry that that scowl was going to become a permanent fixture on Seifer's face. He'd been wearing it all afternoon, and hadn't once shown the slightest leaning toward donning a more pleasant expression. Neither had he once spoken to Zell since that distasteful scene they'd had earlier - not that Zell was going to complain about that; it had actually been a nice surprise, because he'd expected the other man to be at him about any number of things, including but not limited to their encounter the night before, and their much more brief and disagreeable one after waking. But hell, if Seifer was going to refuse to speak to him, Zell would at least enjoy it for the reprieve it was. His main concern was that Dallia was going to have a fit if Seifer was going to act unsociable at her party.

But did it matter, really? This was their last night in Deling City, thank god, and Zell himself was almost at the point of not giving a shit what Dallia thought. She'd been toying with them this whole month, and what with one thing and another, he wasn't feeling much in a mood to tolerate any more of it. Seifer, as well - he'd had quite enough of the both of them.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Zell was starting to think he'd never have enough of Seifer - not after last night. He could hardly think about it without starting to feel hot again. He immediately tried to stop, but that was as futile an endeavor as it had been the last forty times he'd attempted it. He couldn't stop thinking about it - he'd gotten next to no sleep today because of thinking about it. Trying to wrap his brain around everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours - first Seifer's confession, and then what followed (all five hours of it; no wonder he was still so damn tired) and then, this afternoon, that perfunctory and yet somehow extremely intense fight... Zell's brain felt like a wrung-out sponge; no matter how much he rolled it over and over in his mind, he couldn't make heads nor tails of Seifer's behavior.

He started at the beginning. Seifer's confession - well, even what should have been the simplest part of the whole equation mystified him. He had been fairly certain that Seifer was physically attracted to him; he had also been positive that Seifer would never admit to it except under pain of death. Zell assumed there was some other aspect he was missing. Otherwise, why would Seifer confess to wanting him? Unless all he honestly wanted was sex - but if so, then why all the ridiculous games? _Because Seifer's incapable of sincerely being straightforward; it's in his nature to be guarded,_ Zell supplied himself with the answer, though it didn't satisfy him.

The trouble was that, despite what Seifer had said that afternoon, Zell didn't think that any of this was just about sex - not for either of them. He knew it wasn't for him. He actually liked Seifer, despite the gunblader's aggravating tendency to purposely be a dick. And although Seifer was clearly trying to look and sound cool, he'd obviously been angry with Zell - angry enough to break two dishes, which Zell found the evidence of when he emerged from the shower to a calm and composed but decidedly scowly Seifer. How the other man had the nerve to grossly insult Zell and then be angry with his response was beyond him.

If it came down to it, Zell had decided he wasn't against continuing this... well, whatever this thing was that they had going on. He was pretty sure that Seifer felt the same way, but the other man clearly wasn't going to be the first one to come out and say it. He probably considered his confession last night - and in point of fact, it had not been all that willingly given; Zell had had to bait him into it - as meeting Zell halfway. He obviously had no idea how real relationships worked - but then, how many relationships had he been in, anyhow? Zell had no idea. Besides Rinoa, he'd never known the other man to date, or really show interest of any type in anyone. And Zell had never heard any rumors about Seifer of the type that spread so easily through Garden any time anyone hooked up. Gossip spread through the place like a disease even at the best of times, which is why Zell took such pains to keep his private life just that: _private_. So in Seifer's case, was it that there was nothing of interest for anyone to gossip about, or was he just good at keeping closed doors closed?

Whatever the case, it didn't change Zell's mind, nor the fact that Seifer was an idiot. Spending this month together, forced though it might have been, had allowed Zell to get a pretty good read on the ex-knight, whether or not the other man realized it. In fact, he was almost disappointingly typical, when you got down to it. His acting like a jerk was just a defense mechanism to keep people from getting near, and truthfully, if it weren't for the fact that Zell didn't have a choice, he would never have learned so much about Seifer as to actually make him tolerable. The Seifer that nobody else ever saw, the one beneath the snarky, derisive front he put on, was actually a pretty cool guy. He was charming, and funny, and smart... and deep. Maybe sad. Zell didn't know for sure, but now that he'd had a sneak peek, he kind of wanted to. To get to the bottom of Seifer - how many times had Quistis, with all her good intentions, tried the same thing? What made him think that Seifer would be any more willing to let him in then he had anyone else?

Well, he did seem to have a thing for Zell - something more than purely physical attraction, that is. Zell almost grinned, but he stopped himself. He wouldn't have even entertained the idea, so silly did it sound to him, but the more he thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. He _had_ made an effort last night, albeit a lousy one, but that had to count for something. He probably didn't know how to be sincere. Maybe he'd always had people throwing themselves at him. His personality made this seem unlikely, but what did Zell really know about him anyway? It had only been a month.

Oh well. No matter how many times he ran his thoughts in circles, it didn't change the decision he'd come to: he wanted to continue this thing with Seifer. Whatever the consequences might be - Seifer might have threatened it, but Zell didn't believe he'd really out him just for spite. Engaging in a private relationship of any sort with the other man would be grounds for dismissal for the both of them if they were found out; not to mention Zell's job was on the line. Honestly, he wasn't all that concerned. They could keep it quiet easily enough - that was, if Seifer was willing, and Zell was very much of the opinion that he was. But whether or not he would admit that was another matter.

Zell was really hoping he would, just because it would make things so much easier. But again, when was Seifer ever one to take the easy route? The more likely scenario would play out with a few more weeks of unbearable tension before Seifer broke down and came crawling back to him with some really lame excuse - unless it was Zell himself who broke down, but he didn't plan to. It wasn't that he was trying to be stubborn; he just wanted Seifer to realize that he wasn't going to be won over simply by one really unbelievably good night of sex. He wanted to be met halfway. The ball was now in Seifer's court; it was up to him to decide if he wanted to do things the hard way or the easy way.

Zell sighed. Weeks more of the agony of celibacy did not appeal to him.

He sat a little forward in the squishy armchair, the unpleasant floral print of which matched with everything else in the Caraways' sitting room, and watched Seifer for a minute. The other man pretended not to notice, staring with grouchy determination at some object to the left of Zell. His mood had turned so strangely - he'd been perfectly cheerful, and in fact, more amiable than Zell had ever known him, last night, but that could have been attributed to the fact that he was getting laid. He had slept the whole day, which Zell only knew because he himself didn't. And then, upon waking, Zell had barely said two words to him before his disposition took a turn for the worse. It had to be something he'd done, but Zell was damned if he knew what. He didn't like to play games; if Seifer wanted something more from him, it was up to him to say so.

Zell considered for a moment. Maybe it would just be better to ask Seifer and get things cleared up now, before the gunblader had a chance to work himself into a really foul mood over it. Granted, it wasn't quite the time or place, sitting in the Caraways' parlor and waiting for Dallia, who was already ten minutes past due, but the longer he put it off, the less likely Seifer would be willing to listen when he did get to it. Maybe tomorrow, then - they were to catch the first train out of Deling City in the morning, and it was a long trip, after all. A long trip in a private compartment. Zell didn't stop the grin from creeping onto his face this time. He understood Seifer a little better now - there was undeniably something fun in plotting against the other man, particularly when he recalled the events of last night and looked forward to a reenactment.

Dallia chose that moment to make her appearance, gliding through the parlor door with a swish of chiffon and glitter. "Well, someone is in a very good mood!" she declared, her gown glimmering as she crossed the room and came to stand beside the couch. She looked from him to Seifer, and gave a half-frown. "And someone else is not," she added, putting her hands on her hips. "Good heavens. Are the two of you ever on the same page?"

"I think you've just pretty well summed up our entire relationship," Seifer replied, giving her a very cool look. She seemed puzzled by this, as was Zell, who thought he sensed some definite bitterness in Seifer's tone. Is that what Seifer was so bent out of shape about? That Zell couldn't read his mind? _What an idiot,_ Zell thought, sighing again.

Dallia stared at him for a long moment, and then turned her gaze on Zell, with an expression that was beginning to make him distinctly uncomfortable. She was grinning, which was never a good sign - worse, she was grinning at _him_, not Seifer, which was unusual. The look on her face, in fact, was almost as if...

But there was no way she could tell that they had slept together just by looking at him. Sure, she was perceptive, but even she couldn't know that sort of thing just by looking at someone. Then why did her expression look like she _did_ know it? As if his own good mood, Seifer's black one, and that comment of his just now were enough to tell her all she needed to know? Zell started to feel uneasy. That would imply that hers and Seifer's relationship was of a much more intimate nature than even Zell had thought - intimate enough, at least, for Seifer to divulge to her what he was up to these few weeks past. It seemed unlikely that Seifer would reveal that sort of thing to anyone, and given his extreme dislike of Dallia Caraway... unless that was just a front. Who knew what those two were really up to?

"So what's your costume supposed to be?" Zell asked, if only to distract her from whatever she was thinking as she was smirking at him, because it was perfectly obvious what she was supposed to be - every inch of her was painted in blue and silver, her skin and her floaty white gown crusted with glitter and bedazzled with countless tiny crystals, the same which adorned her tiara. A trail of glitter had followed her into the room, and Zell watched it come off her in clouds as she did a little turn to show them her costume. He was going to be covered in that shit by the end of the night.

"Doesn't suit you," Seifer said before Dallia had a chance to answer. She turned toward him, giving him a chilling stare worthy of her elaborate costume.

"I don't recall asking your opinion, Mr. Almasy, thank you," she said shortly, in response to which Seifer only shrugged. "And can you try and appear a little more pleasant? We are going to a party, you know."

"Never mind him. He's been in a wretched mood all day," Zell said, standing from the chair and pointedly ignoring Seifer, whose stare he could feel. "I think you look great. So if you're Shiva, what's the General dressed as?"

"That's a secret," she replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Zell didn't want to laugh, but whatever Dallia had done to her husband, it must have been good. "You'll find out when we get there. Fury will meet us up later. He's picking up Rinoa and her friends from the train station."

This was a pleasant surprise for Zell, who couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Rinoa, except in passing. Well, besides that party of hers that he'd gone to last month - but they hadn't really gotten to hang out, and as far as he could recall, he'd kind of been acting like a dick that night anyway. That, of course, had been Seifer's fault - had it really only been five weeks since then? It seemed like so much had happened between the two of them since.

"We had better get going," Dallia announced, sweeping out her long, gauzy skirts, which vomited glitter all over the carpet. "I shouldn't want to be late for my own party. Mr. Dincht?" she said, holding up a shimmery arm. Zell offered her his own, and together they walked out to the front of the house, with Seifer trailing unenthusiastically, but thankfully silent, behind them.

* * *

Despite what Dallia said, the party was well under way when they arrived, and she jumped right into the fray with girly excitement. "Oh. Umm, let me think. Okay, you come with me," she said, pointing at Seifer. Then she directed her finger at Zell, and added, "you can go and... I don't know, mingle or something. I don't need you both."

"Oh... okay," Zell said, feeling kind of useless as he watched Dallia drag his partner off into the crowd. Seifer was glaring at him as though it was his fault, but he ignored it. Maybe if he was lucky, Dallia would bully Seifer into a better mood before the night was over.

He wandered around for a while, but didn't see anyone he knew - or at least anyone he recognized; most of the party guests were dressed to the nines in a colorful variety of costumes, some of which made even Dallia's bejeweled creation seem modest in comparison. He and Seifer stood out against the crowd, even in SeeD uniform. The party seemed to be mostly comprised of the Caraways' personal friends - socialites, both Estharian and Galbadian - so considering recent events, he wasn't all that surprised that he did get recognized a good deal; that probably would have been the case with or without the uniform. But he didn't have to like it. The only consolation was that he was pretty sure Seifer was suffering a lot more than he was at the moment.

Dallia seemed to be going to a lot of effort to keep Seifer at her side this last week. Promoting the story that Seifer was her co-conspirator in this whole ridiculous Estharian Garden idea? Or were they in on something together? It was hard to believe. Seifer really didn't like her, and he claimed to have no idea why she had taken such a particular liking to him. But she continued to single the gunblader out - clearly he had some part in whatever scheme she was running, even if he didn't know what it was himself. Or maybe Dallia just enjoyed jerking him around because she knew it irritated him. Probably a little of both, Zell reckoned. They were more alike than Seifer would ever admit, and that's probably why he disliked her so.

What was a mystery to Zell - more than everything else, at least - was why Seifer tried so hard to be a bastard. He wasn't one, not really, and if he did have a tendency toward meanness, it was because he'd trained himself to be that way. Zell recalled that he used to have friends, before the war - besides Raijin and Fuujin, that is. Despite a reputation for being kind of arrogant, Seifer had been pretty well-liked... well, by most; he and Zell had never quite got on. So really, it was kind of ironic that Zell was the one getting close to the other man now, when he pushed everyone else away. _Ironic... and sad,_ Zell thought.

It was easy enough to pinpoint _when_ the change had occurred - he hadn't been the same person when he returned to Garden as when he had left it. But _why_ he felt the need to act like an asshole baffled Zell. He played the victim, acting like the whole world was against him, but Zell personally thought there would be any number of people willing to tolerate, or even forgive him if he would just meet them halfway. It wasn't what he'd done during the war that people seemed to have an issue with; it was the fact that he still acted so superior _despite_ it. He was a stubborn idiot, that was the long and short of it, and Zell didn't understand it at all.

And here he was actually trying to get into a _relationship_ with the guy. That was probably the biggest puzzle of all - why was he even bothering? Trying to get into Seifer's head would probably only cause him endless frustration. _I never should have gone and started liking him,_ Zell thought to himself. Granted, if he'd had a choice in the matter, he would never have given Seifer a second thought - if they hadn't been forced into each other's company like this, he'd probably still be happily hating the other man. He didn't know if he wanted to thank Quistis for her meddling or rip her a new one. He wouldn't be in this mess if she hadn't suggested to Squall that he partner Zell and Seifer up - and he knew it was her, too; who else would it be? Although her meddling had been a result of Seifer feeding her ridiculous stories, so he was still mostly at fault here.

Zell stood in a quiet corner, holding a glass of champagne but not drinking it, and watched the crowd as he mulled all this over. The worst part was that, despite the long and continually growing list of reasons not to, he really did _like_ Seifer. Despite his predilection toward dickishness, despite all the scheming and plotting, despite the countless offenses he'd committed since they were kids, and despite the fact that he was inherently incapable of being honest with anyone, including himself. Zell liked him. Liked his smile and his eyes. Liked his sense of humor. Liked how he got goofy when he started drinking, but would never admit it when he sobered up. And how he grumbled about doing Zell favors when he was really just being nice, because he never kept count. And how sometimes he got really quiet and pensive, and Zell knew he was thinking about choices. He liked knowing that he was seeing parts of Seifer that no one else had in a long time. He liked having the power to make Seifer scowl in irritation one moment and then laugh, sheerly out of surprise, the next. And besides all that, he really, _really_ liked the sex. But that was almost an afterthought.

No, that was a lie. The sex had been very much in the forefront of his thoughts for most of the day. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before - and not just because Seifer was a man (although that had been an interesting learning curve.) It was true that he hadn't had the pleasure of someone's company in his bed in quite a while, but even that, he suspected, had little to do with it. The entire experience was rough, wild, fun - and, yes, violent, but mostly by accident - and wholly passionate. Hell, what right did Seifer have to be so good at sex? It almost made Zell angry. That first blowjob had undone him in a matter of _minutes_ - _and_ he was pretty sure that was Seifer's first time with another guy, too. Of course, Zell had gotten his revenge, a little later in the night...

There it was - that was the idea he'd been trying to pinpoint. Sex with Seifer had been more like a competition than anything else, and it was that as much as any particular sexual act that Zell found he liked. Seifer couldn't stand to be one-upped, and there was a thrill in knowing that anything Zell did to him would be reciprocated, and then some... that no matter how far he went, Seifer would always take it further. It was less like fighting a losing battle than like... like playing a game where even losing was still kind of winning. Zell wasn't sure that was a healthy basis for a relationship - but then, no relationship involving Seifer could be normal, so that was to be expected.

He watched the gunblader from across the room, pacing a little and trying not to look completely aimless. Seifer was still at Dallia's side, but at least he had put on a neutral face. Standing on her other side was someone in a bright red and orange costume that Zell didn't immediately recognize, until he realized it was General Caraway and he almost choked on his drink. What the hell had Dallia dressed him up as? It came to Zell a moment later; if she was supposed to be Shiva, his costume must be Ifrit. It made sense, but man did the General look ridiculous - although he didn't seem to mind, and was even smiling, looking fairly cheerful. Would wonders never cease.

Not far away, someone was waving to Zell, and he cracked a smile, recognizing Rinoa even with the half-mask she was wearing. She beckoned him over and he went to join her and the small group of people she was standing with. None of them were dressed particularly inventively; she was only wearing a black-and-white cat mask with her party dress, and the guy next to her - it was one of the Forest Owls, the one who was always sick, but Zell could never get his name down - was just wearing a suit and tie. The redheaded girl on Rinoa's other side, however, was painted all in blue and wearing a seashell-encrusted gown that was clearly supposed to be evocative of a mermaid, out of the top of which her cleavage spilled. Zell tried not to stare, but found that, in fact, he wasn't all that interested.

"This is so great! I didn't know you'd be here," Rinoa declared, pulling him into a tight hug and planting a kiss on his cheek as he approached. She pushed her mask up to the top of her head, and gave Zell the most friendly and welcoming look he'd seen since arriving in Deling City. "I was so surprised to see Seifer when I got here! And then I remembered about... well," she hesitated, clearing her throat. "You guys are all over telly right now. But I guess it didn't occur to me that you'd be here!"

"It's good to see you, too," Zell replied, only being a little bit sarcastic. Rinoa didn't catch it, and went on very cheerfully as if he hadn't spoken.

"I can't believe how well Seifer and my dad are getting on," she said, her hands fluttering for dramatic emphasis. "I mean... I dunno, it seems weird. But, well, they'd have to get on, wouldn't they?"

"Would they?" Zell said.

"They wouldn't?" Rinoa replied, looking confused. "I don't know. Seifer's going to be working together with Dallia, right?"

"I don't know much about it. You'd have to ask him," Zell said in response. Rinoa made a face.

"I don't fancy it. I'd rather just suffer curiosity," she said, grimacing. Zell would hazard a guess that Seifer's sentiments were much the same. He and Rinoa tended to stay well out of each other's way, which seemed to be the best way for them to retain a civil relationship. At least, Seifer never went overly out of his way to be antagonistic toward her, which was more than could be said for a lot of other people around Garden.

"So you're just in town for the party? You've missed a few good ones already," Zell remarked.

"I know. There's been quite some excitement around here, I gather," Rinoa said - a more cryptic remark than was usual from her, which prompted Zell to wonder just how much she really knew about what was going on. Anybody with more than half a brain could guess that he and Seifer were in town for something more than just Garden research, so it was unfair to assume she was completely ignorant. But she had to know he couldn't talk about it in any case, and her remark didn't seem designed to pry. She continued on, "I've actually been really busy with the Owls. We're cutting new deals with the Galbadian government. We're in town for business, but it's kind of a holiday, too."

"Sounds very... efficient," Zell said, lacking both interest and a decent response. Rinoa, as per usual, missed the sardonic hint to his tone. He sometimes thought she did that deliberately.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, waving her glass of champagne, which was luckily not all that full. "I'm being so rude! You know Zone, of course," she added, gesturing to the guy at her left. Zone, that was his name - Zell determined to commit it to memory this time. He knew from experience that this would be futile; the guy was so nondescript that even Zell, who was good with people, couldn't get his name straight. _Poor guy,_ Zell thought, shaking his hand.

"How's it going?" Zone asked. Zell gave him a half-nod in response. The guy looked really uncomfortable in that suit - what was his costume supposed to be, anyway?

"And this is Nelly," Rinoa went on, pulling the other girl into the conversation. "She just joined up with the Owls over the summer. Oh, um..." she frowned, as though she'd just had a thought. "Never mind... you guys have met, haven't you?"

"Indeed we have," Nelthilta said rather coolly, and she shook his hand as well, though with great reluctance. Zell tried not to look too sheepish as she gave him a very unfriendly look.

"Nice to see you again."

"Yeah, whatever," she said, pursing her lips tightly. "Rin, I'm going to get a drink. You can join me," she said next; this was clearly not optional, as she grabbed Rinoa by the elbow and strongarmed her toward the bar in the corner. Rinoa shot him a desperate look over her shoulder, to which he responded with a shrug. He could hear the other girl giving her an earful as they went away - a more familiar sight, Zell thought, watching her stomp across the room with her pigtails bouncing. Well, it could have been worse - at least she didn't throw her drink at him, but that may only have been because her glass was already empty.

"What, you and Nel?" Zone said after a moment, and he gave Zell a look of awe that he didn't like. "Wow, I'm impressed. Isn't she a little young though?"

"We didn't hook up," Zell said flatly. "We just met at a party a few weeks ago. She was so drunk I'm surprised she even remembered."

"Yeah, sounds like her," Zone replied, although he didn't sound like he entirely believed Zell's claim of innocence. Zell didn't bother to be annoyed; it would just be a waste of energy.

"So, uh... how's Watts?" he asked after a minute, when it became clear that standing there in awkward silence with the other man was simply not going to be bearable. He had been more or less ordered to stand around and mingle, but that didn't mean it had to be pleasant.

"He's good. Pretty good." Zone paused, thoughtful. "He was supposed to come here with us but he missed the train."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

Five years, and some things really didn't change. Zell couldn't help but laugh. Between the two of them and Rinoa, it was a wonder anyone took the Owls seriously at all.

"How's... er... Quistis?" Zone asked, making a very pained effort to participate in the conversation. Zell only shrugged again.

"She's good. Keeps busy... you know," he said vaguely. Zone nodded as if he did, in fact, know, and Zell stifled a sigh. He wished Rinoa would return, but he didn't dare seek her out if she was still accompanied by her friend. Wasn't there anyone else here he knew? If he had to stand around with Zone all night pretending to be interested in his polite inquiries into the wellbeing of every mutual acquaintance of theirs, it was going to be a long night. As if this party wasn't bad enough already - he could almost wish he was in Seifer's place. He downed the rest of his champagne.

"So, um..." he began again, "what exactly is your costume supposed to be?"

Zone opened his mouth to reply - and then hesitated, and didn't say anything. The reason for this was because someone had just appeared at Zell's shoulder, and he turned to find Seifer there, giving him a very flat look. "We have a problem. Come with me," he said quietly, and then walked away toward the back of the ballroom. Zell didn't even waste the time it would take to bid Zone good-bye before following, feeling suddenly apprehensive - and even so, a little relieved; Seifer sure had good timing. But he should have known they would never get through this last night in Deling City without something going wrong. And if Dallia was involved, it was sure to be going wrong in a very big way.

Seifer led him to the very back of the room, where they stepped behind a decorative pillar for a moment, Seifer peering out around it into the room. "What's wrong?" Zell asked, once he was sure there was no one else nearby. "Where's Dallia?"

"She's just over there with Caraway," Seifer replied, nodding his head; Zell followed his line of vision to the couple, who were chatting intimately with each other not far away. "There's no emergency. I just thought you looked like you needed an escape route."

"For fuck's sake," Zell said with a sigh - he was half-irritated, but the other half of him couldn't deny how perfectly-timed Seifer's intervention had been. And hadn't he just been wishing for such an easy escape only moments before? Maybe someone was looking after him after all. "How is that any of your business? Maybe I was actually enjoying Zone's company."

"You looked like you wanted to gouge your eyes out with your champagne flute," Seifer said matter-of-factly.

Zell couldn't deny this, so he said nothing. Of course, Seifer took that as confirmation of the truth, and grinned, still scouting the room out from behind the column. It was the first smile Zell had seen him crack all day, which was at least worth something, he supposed. "I guess you're finally over your foul mood," he said casually, looking across the room in the other direction.

Seifer huffed. "Yeah, and whose fault was it in the first place?" he asked, his tone still edged with bitterness. Zell resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Enough was enough already.

"Like I'm supposed to know?" he retorted coolly. "If it was mine, just say so. I'm not a bloody mind reader."

There was another huff, and Zell turned to look back at the other man. He was still smiling, but it was tight and forced, and he didn't say anything for a few moments. "You're unbelievable," he finally muttered, turning as well to face Zell.

"Why? Because I'm not psychic?" Zell said in response. He looked back over his shoulder at the other man, whose expression was incredulous. "Look, I told you last night. If you want something from me, you gotta just tell me. I don't _get_ stuff like you do. I'd prefer to just be straightforward."

Seifer took in this short speech with a fairly unperturbed look on his face, although something about the set of his mouth made Zell think he was trying not to laugh. First he was sulky for hours because Zell didn't understand him; now he was trying to clear up this miscommunication, and Seifer acted like it was a joke. The little part of Zell's brain that sounded kind of like Miri knew that Seifer was probably acting this way because he was actually feeling vulnerable, and was clearly incapable of expressing it and, consequently, making any viable progress in their relationship. It was still infuriating. Why couldn't he just be a normal person?

"What's so funny?" Zell said.

Seifer was grinning now for real; what was the cause of this sudden reversal of mood, Zell couldn't say. "I can't win against you," he said, chuckling quietly as he looked out over the room.

"It's not a competition."

"Every relationship is something," Seifer replied. He turned to face Zell, a muted expression on his face. Zell wasn't fazed; he put on his straightest face and turned around as well, looking Seifer clear in the eye.

"Then what's ours?" he asked coolly.

For a long moment, Seifer merely stared at him, his expression placid in a foil to Zell's own. He hadn't intended to put the matter as plainly as that, but in retrospect Zell was kind of glad he had; it was worth it to actually see Seifer thinking in earnest about his reply. Maybe he was actually learning. A few seconds passed, and his eye line shifted to something past Zell, just beyond his shoulder. "Excuse me," he said brusquely, his words not directed at Zell, but now at someone else. "Something we can help you with?"

Zell turned to see, just behind him, a very thin woman in a bejeweled mask backing rather cautiously away from them. Even with the mask, the bright red hue of her cheeks was evident. "Um, er, no. I, um..." she stammered, giving somewhat of a nervous smile as she continued to retreat. Seifer was staring daggers at her, and Zell couldn't entirely blame him - he was a little peeved himself; he was pretty sure he had been just about to get something actually worthwhile out of the other man, if they hadn't been interrupted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just..." the woman trailed off vaguely.

"Well, if that's all, then why don't you piss off?" Seifer said coolly. Wisely, she chose to heed this advice without another word. Zell watched her turn and scamper away, her hands clasped tensely in front of her, and he frowned. Something about those red-flushed ears nagged familiarly at him.

"Not that I'm trying to cop out or anything, but I'm thinking that now isn't the time or place for this conversation," Seifer remarked, with something still like amusement about his expression. Having scared the living daylights out of some poor innocent had contributed to his good mood, evidently. Zell refused to humor him. He had just realized what he had recognized about that slight northern accent.

"Was that Seera?" he said, feeling puzzled.

"I don't know why you're surprised," Seifer replied. "Every time I see her, she's eavesdropping."

"That's not it," Zell said, giving the other man a significant look. "What's she doing in a place like this?"

Seifer returned his stare for a moment as he caught up with Zell's train of thought. "Come to think of it," he said, "there are a lot of Trabians here tonight..."

Zell stifled a groan. This might turn into a real mission yet. Even given the alternative, he wasn't sure the idea appealed to him. "Where's Dallia?"

Seifer peeked around the column, but it didn't take him long to answer. "Still with Caraway and Rinoa," he said, nodding in their direction.

"Keep an eye on her," Zell said, giving a sigh. "I'm gonna follow Seera. I'll meet you back here in five minutes."

Seifer nodded in agreement of his plan, and without another word, Zell slipped away into the crowd, trying to pick the direction Seera had taken. Maybe he was being a little paranoid, but hey, that was pretty much what he was sent here to do; besides, it made no sense for Seera to be here tonight. He somehow didn't think that a receptionist at a rent-by-the-week motel merited an invitation to the most exclusive party Deling City had seen in months. And Seifer wasn't wrong about the Trabians, either. There was enough going on to warrant a reasonable amount of caution.

He was moving in the direction of the bar - the opposite side of the room where he could still see the General and his wife in intimate conversation with a few friends - but he had lost sight of Seera, and was trying to catch a glimpse of her long plait of dark hair or her black and green bedazzled mask through the crowd, when very suddenly he ran straight into her from behind. Her expression as he caught her by the arm was, for a brief moment, laced with panic; then, a second later, she settled on surprised and confused as she pulled the mask off to reveal her face.

"Zell," she said, feigning utter bemusement - it would have been very good, too, if he hadn't just a minute ago seen a real, honest look of shock on her face when Seifer called her out for eavesdropping. "What are you doing?"

"I thought that was you," he said. "I'm glad I caught you. I didn't want you to think..."

He trailed off, and he saw some of the defensiveness in her expression soften at his earnest, almost pleading tone. She had clearly believed from the first that he and Seifer were involved; if there was ever a time where something like that could be used to his advantage, it was now. "It's... none of my business, really," Seera said after a moment.

"How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Only a... well... most of it," she admitted, looking bashful. It seemed almost genuine, in fact; until Zell stepped closer, as if for privacy, and caught her glancing back over her shoulder, exchanging a very quick look with a man who was standing off to the side of the bar, not twenty feet from them. Zell pretended not to notice, and when she smiled up at him a second later, it was with an expression solely of pity and comfort.

"It's not what you think," he went on, which was almost true. She gave him a look that said she didn't believe him, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Zell. I won't say anything. I can keep a secret," she said.

_I'll just bet you can,_ he thought. He gave a weak smile, and relaxed his stance, as though in relief, and Seera gave him an encouraging pat on the arm. Whether she was genuinely buying it or just playing along, he couldn't tell. He had come to really like Seera these past four weeks, although she did have a tendency to let her imagination run off with her regarding certain aspects of his private life. He had never bothered to set her straight because it was nice to have someone on his side for a change, and she was always good for lending an ear when he wanted to gripe about Seifer - now he had to wonder if she had been working her way into his confidence for some purpose. He wanted to think not, but it was too weird a coincidence to find her here tonight.

"So," he said, abruptly changing the subject, "what are you doing here? I was surprised to see you."

"Oh, yes," she replied, looking confused, but only for a second. She looked again back over her shoulder, and gave a vague wave in the direction of the bar. "My boyfriend is with the press, and I'm his plus one. Actually, he's waiting for me, so I should be going. Sorry."

"No, of course," Zell said, with absolutely no desire to stop her. The sooner she left him, the sooner he could get to following her. Her story sounded plausible enough, but he wanted to be certain about it, and her behavior wasn't reassuring him any. She smiled up at him, and gave him another little pat on the arm.

"Besides, you ought to get back to Seifer, anyway. He's probably ready to apologize by now for whatever he's done," she said teasingly. Zell forced a grin onto his face. So much for not saying anything. But her very obvious eagerness to get rid of him was just another mark against her.

"That's probably true. Maybe I'll see you later," he said in response, at which she only laughed. She waved at him as she turned toward the bar, and Zell smiled and waved back until she melted into the crowd. He gave her a good five seconds then before slipping into the throng and circling around for the other side of the bar.

He spotted her and the other man standing by themselves just apart from the crowd at the end of the counter, and he paused to think of how to approach. As he watched them, another woman joined the group, and the three of them stood very close in conversation. He probably couldn't get near enough through the crowd to hear them, and his uniform would be a beacon to Seera, in any case. Instead, he slipped behind the bar, moving at a crouch behind the counter and silencing the protests that the bartender was clearly about to make with a throat-cutting gesture. The man just shrugged, and went back to stacking glasses. At least there was something to be said for SeeD authority.

Peering around the end of the counter, he could see the three of them, but there was too much noise to hear any part of their conversation. He slid out from behind the counter and instead took a spot behind a massive potted plant a few feet away. He was practically on top of them now, which was dangerous; but Seera was facing the other direction, and at least he was within hearing. The other woman in the group was speaking.

"...not sure this is going to work," she said, her tone very low. She wasn't wearing a mask and looked to be middle-aged, with a face that suggested that most of her expressions involved frowning. "Either Caraway or one of those SeeDs is always beside her. I thought they'd be gone by now."

"Don't worry about them. They should be distracted at least for a while," Seera said, looking over the crowd in the other direction, and Zell knew she was probably thinking that he and Seifer were off in a corner somewhere making out.

"That still leaves Caraway."

Zell followed Seera's gaze across the room, but it only took him a moment to spot Dallia and her husband in their ridiculous costumes. They were standing with Rinoa, who to her credit only looked a little uncomfortable as Dallia threw a friendly arm around her shoulders. In fact, all three of them looked remarkably cheerful and at ease, which made kind of a strange family picture.

"Maybe we should give this up for now," the man offered, and the woman whacked him in the chest with the back of her hand.

"Not likely. I've waited a long time for a chance at the little princess," she snarled. "She's only in town for tonight. This is our last chance."

"But think how much already has gone wrong," the man began, but Seera cut him off with a raised hand.

"Look, I know things didn't go like we planned," she said. "I have an idea. It's not a great one, but..."

"Tell us," the other woman growled. They all three leaned close together, and Zell had to strain to hear Seera's words.

"As soon as she walks away from Caraway, I'll intercept her. I'll spill my drink on her dress. She'll head for the ladies' to clean up, and you two and Carla catch her there," She explained in short, terse whispers. Then she paused, and waited for the others' reactions. They seemed to be waiting for more, and when it was clear that that was the extent of her plan, their bafflement matched Zell's own. That was it? That was almost the worst kidnapping plan he had ever heard.

"That actually might work," the woman said after thinking about it for a moment. "She might be that stupid."

"I'm counting on it," Seera replied.

"Alright, then. We haven't got much to lose, I guess. Here's what we'll do," the older woman said. "I'll go down to the lower level and wait there. You, go find Carla and you two meet me downstairs as soon as you can," she went on, this directed at the man, who nodded, looking nervous. "Seera... you just be sure and pick your moment well. Those SeeDs keep popping up where we don't want them."

"I know what to do," Seera assured her, looking much more composed than her two companions. Zell was officially pissed off now, not so much at the fact that she had clearly been playing him for weeks, but more at the implications she was making about him and Seifer. "You'll have your sorceress by the end of the night, Morgan," Seera added in a cool voice. "I promised you that and I'll make it happen."

Zell frowned, unsure if he had heard that correctly. A sorceress? Surely they weren't talking about Dallia? The three of them were silent now, watching across the room; Zell followed the direction of their gaze to a point on the far side of the room, where the General and Dallia were chatting happily with... with Rinoa. As he watched, she gave her father a small, slightly awkward hug, and then shook Dallia's hand amiably before bidding them goodbye, walking away by herself. Caraway and his wife strolled off in the other direction, arms linked.

"She's on the move," the man murmured, looking round at the other two. Then all three nodded to each other.

"Let's go," the older woman - Morgan - replied. She peeled off from the group, slipping easily into the crowd, which left Seera and the other man standing alone. He gave her an uneasy smile.

"Sorceress hunting," she said in a low voice, grinning. Then they split, the man disappearing into the throng, and Seera moving toward the north end of the room. Zell, still behind his plant, floundered for a moment, unsure of who to follow. It took his mind a moment to catch up to the conversation he'd just overheard, and when it sunk in, he knew exactly what he had to do - first, find Seifer; he was going to need another pair of eyes searching for Rinoa in this overdressed crowd. After all, it wasn't Dallia they were after - it was her step-daughter.


	20. Chapter 19, part 2

Seifer was waiting just where Zell had left him - his first real piece of good luck today. His expression must have been not reassuring, because the first thing Seifer said was, "that bad, huh?"

"They're up to something ridiculous," Zell said, remembering Seera's plan and cringing a little - they had to be desperate to think it would work. But it was probably better not to take chances.

"Dallia's just there," Seifer replied, nodding in the lady's direction. "I've been watching. No one's approached."

"It's not Dallia they're after, it's Rinoa," Zell said.

"Rinoa?"

"Yeah. So, what I'm thinking we should do is you take the east side of the room and I'll take the west, and circle around-"

"Wait a minute," Seifer interrupted, holding up a hand as he cut Zell off mid-sentence. "Why?"

"Well, they're trying to kidnap Rinoa," Zell said slowly, a little thrown by the question. How had he lost Seifer already? He hadn't even finished detailing his plan. The other man gave him a look like he was being stupider than usual.

"I mean, why is that our problem?" Seifer said shortly.

"Seifer!" Zell huffed, giving him the sharpest look he could muster. Seifer only shrugged.

"Well, it's not. Rinoa can take care of herself," he replied defensively. Zell refused to temper his glare, and Seifer, to his credit, did start to look chagrined. "Anyway, that's really not our job..."

"She's my friend," Zell said. "And also, she's your boss' girlfriend. And also, just shut up and do what I tell you," he added, and continued to stare at Seifer in a rather unfriendly way until the gunblader sighed, and grumbled something under his breath that might have been an acquiescence. He had a point, kind of - Rinoa wasn't really their problem, and she probably could handle herself - but they sure weren't going to win any points with the General and his wife by letting his daughter get assaulted by would-be kidnappers. Besides, even though Seera's plan was close to the stupidest thing Zell had ever heard, he didn't want to just trust to fate that everything would turn out alright. He knew better than that.

"Look, you take that way, and I'll go this way. We'll circle around and meet on the other side, and hopefully one of us spots her," Zell said, tactfully ignoring Seifer's roll of the eyes. "Don't make a scene. If you see Rinoa, get her out of sight."

"This is stupid," Seifer said, as if his expression and his melodramatic fed-up gestures weren't enough to communicate what he was thinking.

"You can be rude to her if you want," Zell said.

"Oh, well, there's a silver lining," Seifer murmured back. Zell didn't deign to reply, but merely gestured to the other man to get moving, and then turned in the other direction to get on the move himself. But he didn't even get a step before Seifer's hand on his wrist pulled him back. "Wait," Seifer said lowly.

"Um, we don't really have time for that," Zell said, frowning. He pulled his hand away, and Seifer released his grip, but the expression he was looking down at Zell with was suddenly grave.

"Listen," he said. "About... what I said earlier, this afternoon..."

Zell watched him for a moment or two while he fought with whatever it was he was trying to say, trying not to get frustrated - but really, why did Seifer have to pick right now to suddenly want to spill his heart? It wasn't as if Zell didn't want to hear him out - everything else aside, he was curious to see how Seifer was going to try and explain his behavior without admitting the fact that he was an idiot - but now was hardly the place or time for that conversation. But he was clearly making an effort to do something, and Zell weighed that against the very real possibility that if he shut Seifer down right now, it might be for good; the ex-knight wasn't exactly known for his honest and heartfelt confessions, and he wasn't likely to offer Zell an apology twice... if that was in fact what he was doing; as he went on, it was rather difficult to tell.

"I kind of, uh, take it back," Seifer said in a tone that was not exactly level. He appeared to be engaged in some kind of private war with his expression to look cool, which he was failing at. Zell wanted to laugh, but didn't dare. "I didn't really mean it and, uh... I shouldn't have said it," he finished flatly. Zell waited for more, but if there was anything else, Seifer didn't seem to be willing to say it just now.

"That's funny," Zell said, playing nonchalant. "Usually when people apologize, they start with 'I'm sorry' and work their way backwards from there-"

"Fine, you know what? Laugh all you want," Seifer hissed, his disposition taking a sudden turn for the worse. Zell was a bit startled; he'd only been joking, but evidently Seifer wasn't in the mood to humor him. "I'm trying to do something right. You just go and think it's hilarious."

"What I think it is, is wasting time," Zell replied. "I don't care about what you said. I accept your apology. Now just _go_," he said, giving the other man a pointed look. He turned to go himself, but before he could move, Seifer grabbed him again by the arm, this time much less gently.

"Zell," he said sharply, stepping in close and crowding Zell against the pillar. His expression was dark, and Zell had an impulse to push him away, but he was averse to causing a scene. Probably better to let Seifer get whatever he was trying to say out now, instead of letting it stew for the next few hours or however long it would be before they had another private moment. Not that this one was exactly private, but at Seifer's sudden display of violence, most of the crowd had put some distance between them, so they were comparatively secluded for the moment.

"Look, you can hate me if you want, that's fine, I've made my peace with that," Seifer growled, and Zell hardly had time to be surprised by that before he went on, "but you can let me finish talking. You at least can understand what's going on here."

"Why in the world would you think I hate you?" Zell interrupted.

Puzzlement flashed across Seifer's features for a brief moment, not obscuring the anger that was still etched there - but it was enough to make clear to Zell what was happening here. What had Seifer been thinking this whole time? He had evidently formed some very dark and unpleasant theories about Zell's intentions. Hell, he thought Zell _hated_ him - but then, as Zell gave it some thought, what had he done to make Seifer think otherwise? Yeah, they had slept together, but it wasn't like there was any romance in it. Or even friendliness. Really, overall, the entire night had been more like a brawl - like the countless fights they'd had before, just with a happier ending.

"Don't you?" Seifer said in response to Zell's own question, and his tone, which was hard and cold, only betrayed him a little with apprehension. It was only at that moment that it occurred to Zell that Seifer did, really did, _like_ him. He was so baffled by the realization for a second or two that he forgot he was supposed to be answering a question.

"No, of course not," he answered, giving the other man a look that he hoped conveyed how stupid he thought Seifer was. Imagine getting so worked up over something so dumb. Even still, the relief that visibly passed over him at Zell's declaration was ridiculously endearing. _He has_ really_got a thing for me,_ Zell thought privately. Of course, it was one of the things he'd been conjecturing about all night, but it still hadn't seemed quite like a real thing until just now, seeing the confirmation of his theory in Seifer's expression. And there was something curiously charming about watching Seifer try to think of a way to ask his next question without sounding like a teenage girl. Zell tried to forget his impatience and the fact that they had somewhere rather urgent to be as he waited for Seifer to work up the nerve to ask it - after all, if he was going to ask it, he would only do it once, and Zell wasn't going to miss it.

"So, then, you, um," Seifer said, still trying very hard to look cool. Zell kept a straight face, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to laugh. When it came right down to it, Seifer was just a boy at heart - Zell wasn't going to say it wasn't cute, but it was about time for Seifer to man up and just speak what was on his mind.

"I, um?" Zell prompted.

"You actually, uh, like me?"

"Yeah, I actually do," Zell said with a grin, quirking an eyebrow up at the gunblader, who appeared, for lack of a better word, dumbfounded. Zell slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Now, _go_," he said, pointing Seifer in the right direction before going off himself in the opposite direction. He ducked into the crowd that formed a wall against the dance floor, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, he was pleased to see that Seifer had managed to melt into the crowd as well. Well, at least something had managed to get him moving.

Still, Zell couldn't help but smirk to himself as he made his way around the perimeter of the room, poring over the crush of people for a glimpse of Rinoa. The whole exchange was so silly that he had to smile. He made a mental note to remember to tease the fuck out of Seifer when this godawful mission was finally over and they were back at Garden. In the meantime, however, he couldn't exactly dwell on it as he'd like to - he had more important things to worry about.

Stupid Seera. Why did she have to go and ruin what could have been a perfectly enjoyable last night in Galbadia with some absurd kidnapping scheme? He grumbled under his breath for a few moments as he searched before he realized that, his own personal grudge aside, it was rather a valid question. Her and her friends were evidently a part of some kind of sorceress resistance group - not a huge surprise; there were still a lot of them around, and Rinoa was frequently being targeted. But this stunt of Seera's reeked of desperation, which made Zell wonder what they thought they were going to accomplish by holding Rinoa hostage - if they even got that far, because Seifer had been absolutely right when he said that his ex-girlfriend could handle herself. She was more powerful than Zell even liked to think about most of the time. True, most of that power was kept in check by the several trinkets of Dr. Odine's that she wore at all times, but if there was one thing Rinoa was _not_, it was in need of protection. That did beg the question of why Zell felt the need to jump to her rescue anyway; his answer, when he thought about it, was that he was completely offended by Seera thinking she could get away with something so ludicrous right under his nose.

Well, at least this whole month spent in Deling City wouldn't be a waste, if they saw some action tonight. On a professional level, at least - on a personal level, Zell found he was decently pleased with how things had turned out. So what if most of those four weeks had been spent at war with Seifer? Things had ended pretty well, hadn't they? He had gotten Seifer to break down and admit not just that he wanted him, but that he_liked_ him. Considering that a week ago he'd been ready to rip off whichever limb Seifer dared to touch him with, it was an improvement. Hell, four or five weeks ago, he'd have happily thrown Seifer onto Squall and Quistis' mercy if he could have gotten away with it without fear of retribution, and he probably wouldn't have thought twice about if it Seifer got booted out of Garden, either.

Funny how things could change so quickly. He'd spent some fifteen years hating Seifer's guts, and in less than a month had almost completely changed his mind. Being in Seifer's company day and night for four weeks had nearly driven him insane, yes, but it also gave him a chance to see the things that the other man probably didn't want people to see. All the good things about him he kept shut up inside. Zell even kind of understood where he was coming from; after all, he probably thought it was simply easier to parade all his bad qualities and have people just dismiss him as a jerk, rather than put in all the work of showcasing the good in him with no guarantee that it would change anyone's opinion. His logic was kind of twisted, but Zell could see how he'd come to that sort of mindset. But _his_ opinion had been changed, of all people. Maybe that would be worth something to Seifer, and maybe not.

Still, it was not the time or place to contemplate it, Zell reminded himself. He was supposed to be searching for Rinoa - but that was turning out to be a futile endeavor, and he just couldn't seem to get this affair with Seifer off his mind. He never used to overthink things this much. All his relationships in the past had been so straightforward and simple - well, there it was. "Straightforward" and "simple" were probably the last two words he would ever use to describe Seifer. Substitute, perhaps, "stubborn" and "scheming". After some thought, he decided he'd better add "proud" and "manipulative" as well-

His completely off-topic train of thought was halted by the touch of a hand on his shoulder. He jumped around, half-expecting it to be Seifer again, despite the fact that the other man should still be on the other side of the room. He was more surprised to find Rinoa standing just behind him, and her expression was taken aback as he turned on her. "Zell, my god, are you okay?" she asked with a good deal of concern. His expression must have been something else, to judge by the look on her face.

"Rinoa," he said, with some relief. How convenient of her to walk up just as he was in urgent need of finding her. "Can you come with me for a minute? Don't ask why; just try not to look alarmed."

"Alright," she said, smiling a little. She was clearly confused but was playing along, which was all to the good as Zell steered her lightly by the arm toward the front of the room. What was less to the good was the fact that she had appeared just at the very moment he was searching for her, which seemed like too much of a coincidence to be in his favor. He was starting to get that gnawing bad feeling in his gut again.

"Zell, what's going on?" she asked, giving him a look of deep worry as they nestled into a small alcove between two frondy potted plants. "Your friend said you were looking for me."

"I was," he replied, trying to think. If Rinoa was here, then Dallia was somewhere out in the room unwatched. He looked up to see Seifer coming toward them from the opposite direction. "Dammit," he muttered to himself.

"You're hurting my arm," Rinoa said, pulling away until Zell released his grip. She rubbed her wrist with a slight hint of resentment to her otherwise innocent expression. "Is something wrong here?"

"Who told you I was looking for you?" he asked.

"Your friend," she said, turning and pointing into the crowd. She paused, and then turned back, frowning. "Well... she was just over there a moment ago. She said-"

"And where's Dallia?"

"She went to the ladies'," Rinoa said, looking round again as Seifer approached them, his expression impressively neutral. She gave him a rather tepid look, and then returned her attention to Zell to add, "She spilled something on her gown. Now do you two want to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm an idiot, that's what's going on," Zell said, resisting the urge to hit himself. So Dallia was their target after all. As for her being a sorceress - well, either Seera and her friends were misguided, or he himself was, and now that the idea was in his head, he wasn't feeling all that confident in his own discernment. Why wouldn't she be a sorceress? It would make sense out of a lot of things that had happened over the past month. Not to mention her weird attachment to Seifer-

Zell looked up at the other man, suddenly feeling extremely uneasy. If, indeed, Dallia was a sorceress, what was going to happen when Seifer found out? If he wasn't aware already - but that seemed unlikely, what with his rather extreme dislike of anything related to the topic. He wouldn't even look at Rinoa, and Zell didn't know the last time he'd actually spoken to Matron before that surprise meeting of theirs earlier this month. His aversion to sorceresses and their ilk was ingrained, and in fact was probably part of the reason he didn't like Dallia at all, even if he didn't realize it. His reaction to finding out that the woman he'd been working so closely with for the last four weeks was actually secretly a sorceress was probably going to be unpleasant. Briefly, Zell entertained the idea of pawning the other man off on some stupid errand to get him out of the way while he himself dealt with the Dallia situation, but somehow Seifer's expression indicated that he was through taking orders from Zell today.

"I don't want to say 'I told you so', Dincht," he began, his tone giving away his amusement even if his face didn't. Zell cut him off bad-temperedly.

"Then don't say it. Rinoa, you'd probably better stay here for a bit," he said, turning to her and giving a shrug, for lack of a better gesture to describe how utterly at a loss he was. She was looking between the two of them with growing suspicion, but he didn't give her a chance to start asking questions before he headed toward the exit, with Seifer following closely behind. As they made their way downstairs in the direction of the restrooms, he explained what he'd overheard of Seera's plan, omitting the part that involved Dallia being a sorceress - there was no proof yet, after all, and it would only upset Seifer to bring it up. By the time he was finished, the other man was scowling.

"That's the stupidest kidnapping plan I've ever heard of," Seifer said, sounding half-irritated but mostly fed up. "The only thing stupider is that Dallia actually _fell_ for that."

"She fell for it on purpose," Zell said in response. "She wanted to be caught in their trap. Actually, I'm thinking that all the ridiculous stunts she's been pulling have been designed to lure out her attackers. But why it took them a month to get their shit together is beyond me."

"How the fuck are we supposed to protect her if she doesn't tell us anything?" Seifer asked. The question evidently wan't aimed at anyone in particular, because he didn't seem to mind when Zell didn't answer; he had an idea that the last thing that Dallia needed was their protection. As if in confirmation of that thought, there suddenly came a loud rumbling sound from the direction of the ladies' room, followed closely by a mild shaking from the floor beneath their feet and a wave of static that filled the air around them. He looked up at Seifer, whose highly irritated expression reflected his own. "Did that sound like a thunder spell to you?" he asked casually, lifting one eyebrow in inquiry. The gesture, however, failed to convey the appropriate disdain in conjunction with the fact that his hair was all standing on end, which just made him look silly.

"Son of a bitch," Zell said, adding a sigh just for dramatic effect. Seifer took off down the corridor, and Zell followed, wondering if there were any way for the situation to possibly get worse. He was fairly sure that was Dallia in action - it wasn't likely her would-be kidnappers had access to illegal magics. If that wasn't confirmation that she was a sorceress, then Zell didn't know what was... and there would be no hiding the fact from Seifer, even if Zell had wanted to, which he was still debating in his head. Oh well, it was too late to worry about it now. The two men paused as they approached the door to the ladies' room, through the bottom of which black smoke was seeping. Then Seifer barreled through the doorway, with Zell close behind.

Within seconds, the martial artist had taken in the scene. Dallia was on the far side of the room, standing in one of the sinks with her back against the vanity mirror, which was cracked from end to end. She looked somewhat peeved, but appeared unharmed, though her costume was a write-off. She spotted the two of them immediately as they came through the door, and her expression lit up. "Oh, boys, you're finally here!" she exclaimed, as though they were late to a cocktail party, rather than to her rescue from a fairly dangerous situation. "Would you mind awfully detaining these cretins for me?"

Her three attackers turned at the same instant, and Zell sized them up. The man and the woman from before were there, as well as another young woman that Zell hadn't seen before. She and her male companion were both armed with small handguns, and the older woman was wielding something that resembled a taser. Zell stifled a groan of frustration. He'd been shot before, but it definitely was on the list of things he didn't want to experience again.

A movement on the right side of the room revealed that a fourth assailant was present - it took Zell a moment of scrutiny to realize that it was Seera. She was laying in the wreckage of one of the toilet stalls, whose walls had clearly been blown down by Dallia's spell, and she looked rather the worse for wear; her hair was frazzled and burned black on the ends, and her eyes weren't focused as she scrabbled at the rubble around her, trying to climb out. Zell guessed she'd taken the brunt of the thunder magic, and so he discounted her as an immediate threat, instead concentrating on the three others, who upon hearing Dallia's imperious order, were now rushing he and Seifer.

He didn't bother to look to Seifer for confirmation that they were on the same page; they both leapt forward into the fight, the gunblader taking the young woman on the far right, and Zell aiming for the guy in the middle. The one with the taser had hesitated, and then went back for Dallia, whose expression was maddeningly excited. _Like this is some kind of fucking game,_ Zell thought with irritation, as he went for the guy with both fists. What he wouldn't give for some hastes or a good protect spell. But no, this had to be an undercover mission - what a joke!

He went for the guy fast, but even still, he heard two shots fired before he closed the distance - one of which grazed his ribcage as he raised his arm to strike. The wuss went down with two hits to the face, and Zell was almost disappointed - the least these clowns could do after causing so much trouble was give him a good fight after all. Seifer had even less trouble dispatching his partner, although his expression suggested he would have appreciated having someone to wail on. Zell moved to take down the third assailant, but it was unnecessary; Dallia had bashed the woman over the head with a gilded tissue box, and she appeared to be out cold. She was now climbing down from the counter, holding the remains of her dress very gingerly around her, and looking fairly pleased with herself.

"That was exciting!" she announced, which earned her a dirty look from both Zell and Seifer, though she didn't take notice of either. Zell looked around at the mess and sighed. The restroom was destroyed; Dallia's little thunder spell had wreaked havoc on the marble fixtures and the intricate mosaic walls. He lifted his arm to take a look at the wound on his side, but it was hardly a scratch, although it was oozing blood in an unpleasant sort of way. Whether or not the guy had actually been aiming at him, or even which of the two kidnappers had fired both of the shots, he had no idea, and didn't particularly care. He and Seifer were in good shape, and Dallia looked positively giddy - hell, this was just another adventure to her.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked her, biting back a sigh.

"What?" she replied, and she even had the balls to give him an innocent little shrug. "All's well that ends well, don't they say?"

Zell gritted his teeth, but he refrained from making a remark that would undoubtedly not go down well with Dallia. Seifer, he noticed, was being very quiet, but what the reason for that was, Zell couldn't say. At the best of times, it wasn't easy to read Seifer, and at the moment his expression was inscrutable.

Well, what did they do now? Zell looked around at the four unconscious kidnappers - no, make that three; Seera was still conscious, though she looked seriously dazed as she continued to make an effort to get to her feet. Possibly she didn't realize the fight was over, not that there was much of a fight to begin with, because she was clutching a device that was similar to the taser-like thing the other woman had, and was trying to raise it in front of her to defend herself. Zell, who was closest, took a few steps toward her and slapped it out of her hands.

"Your girlfriend there is causing a lot of trouble," Seifer said, the sneer evident in his tone.

"She's not my girlfriend," Zell snapped back, _and you fucking well know it,_ he added silently. Seifer wisely said nothing more. He was clearly in a foul mood, but so was Zell, and he wasn't feeling like putting up with the other man's snarkiness just now. Dallia, on the other hand, was grinning in a way that Zell really didn't like, and as he shot a glance her way, she gave him a very inquisitive look that had him wondering just how much she _did_ know about he and Seifer. That devious gleam in her eye suggested that his unspoken comment had not gone unnoticed.

"Seera, give it up," he said, watching with a sense of pity as the bemused girl made a sloppy lunge toward the weapon laying near her feet. Zell kicked it away.

"Zell, what are you doing?" she said in a weak, hoarse voice. "You know what she is. You of all people-"

"Give it up," he repeated firmly. "Your plan was stupid and it failed. I don't want to have to hurt you."

"Sorceresses can't be allowed to roam free," she said, finally staggering to her feet. Zell snorted.

"'Roam free'? It's not like she's out there burning down villages and eating babies, for fuck's sake. She's throwing parties. Where's the harm?"

"Sorceresses cannot be allowed to stand in positions of power..." Seera went on, clutching at her head as she wobbled from side to side. Zell took pity on her and felled her with one punch to the gut, and then rolled her over to a clean patch of floor next to her companions. All these stupid resistance groups spouted the same nonsense.

"That anti-sorceress spiel is such bullshit," he huffed.

"Bravo, gentlemen!" Dallia chirped, clapping her hands with gusto as she came up between Zell and Seifer. "I'm very impressed! You took them out so quickly!"

"It was stupid of you to let them lure you down here," Zell told her sharply. If she took offense at this impertinence, she didn't show it. Instead, she beamed up at the pair of them, hooking one arm through Zell's elbow and the other through Seifer's on her other side.

"But you two came running to my rescue! Just like knights in shining armor!"

She flashed a winning smile up at Zell, who felt his stomach lurch at the phrasing she had used, and its connotations. Seifer's reaction was less temperate; he yanked his arm out of Dallia's grasp, and Zell, in the interest of damage limitation, grabbed the gunblader by his shirtfront and steered him toward the door before he could say whatever his extremely angry expression suggested he was about to say. "Seifer, why don't you go find General Caraway?" Zell said, but it wasn't really a question. He hoped Seifer would have the sense to take himself away from Dallia when he was in such a mood, as they both knew very well how she affected him.

"Let me go," the other man snarled, slapping Zell's hands away. Zell simply shoved him through the door and shut it behind him, and to his relief, Seifer didn't attempt to fight him. Well, there was one small crisis averted, he supposed.

"You seem in sort of a bad mood, Mr. Dincht," Dallia observed when he returned to her side.

"Yeah, no kidding," he said sourly. And why not? They'd been lied to and dicked around with for the whole month, besides trying to deal with a client who did whatever she wanted and damn the consequences. Now he was going to have a very unhappy Seifer to contend with, as well, and he didn't even want to think about how he was going to write up this mission report. He turned back to Dallia, who was doing her best butter-wouldn't-melt routine, complete with fluttering eyelashes and a sweet, glittery smile. "How long have you been a sorceress?" he asked.

"Oh, all my life," she answered, waving a hand as though the question were ridiculous. "I mean, as long as I can remember. But it's a hard secret to keep."

"So your husband knows?" Zell followed up, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question even before she said it.

"Of course he does. But, I mean..." She paused, and then gave him a skeptical look. "Are you saying you _didn't_know?"

"Your lovely thunder spell tipped me off a bit," he replied coolly.

"Oh, dear," Dallia said, and she sat down on the edge of the counter, looking suddenly stricken. "That's not... that is, I thought Seifer had figured me out _ages_ ago. I mean, all those things I said... he must think I was intentionally trying to be cruel."

She did look genuinely troubled over it, and some of Zell's anger deflated at this. Neither he nor Seifer had had the tiniest suspicion that Dallia was anything other than what she appeared to be, but it certainly explained why Seifer disliked her so much from the start, even before she had given them any reason to, which she had amply done since. If there was anyone likely to recognize a sorceress, it would be Seifer - or would it? Come to think of it, Zell had to wonder if Rinoa knew - certainly she would be one to see Dallia for what she really was. For that matter, did Squall know? Had he sent them into this mission knowing it was a set-up?

"Who else knows about you? Squall?" he asked next.

"Heavens, no! Fury is the only one. Although plenty of people have their suspicions, no one has ever been able to prove anything," she added with just a touch of bitterness.

"But these guys found out," he mentioned, indicating the four bodies laying at their feet.

"Well, these anti-sorceress groups have been at me for years. But like I said, they've never proven anything," was her answer to that, and she looked down at her kidnappers with disdain.

"But you _were_ trying to lure them out," Zell went on. "All these parties, and that ridiculous Garden scheme, and then dragging Seifer into it..."

She gave a heavy sigh, and suddenly she looked very tired to Zell. "Yes, I was trying to lure them out," she explained, her tone low and no longer exuberant, as before. "I had no idea it would take so much. From what I gathered, their plans have been going awry all month, and this nonsense tonight was their last desperate attempt to get me before I leave the city. It's really rather anti-climactic, isn't it?"

Zell didn't deign to answer that. Instead, he said, "you shouldn't have pulled that stunt with the magic... people are going to know now, if they suspected before."

"I think I'm ready for people to know," Dallia said, and surprisingly, she looked in earnest. "I've been dancing around with fools like these my whole life. Maybe it's better to just get it out in the open and they can declare war on me and that'll be the end of it."

"That's an admirable stance to take," Zell said, which made Dallia smile. She came down from on the counter, and gave him a friendly pat on the arm.

"I'm flattered you think so," was her response. "Come on... we'll let the authorities handle the clean-up down here. I should like to find my husband... and you should probably find your partner."

Zell didn't answer to that charge, either. He was feeling eager to find Seifer, mostly because the other man was so unpredictable that Zell couldn't guess what he might be doing with his newfound knowledge of Dallia's heritage. He was angry, certainly, and Zell was plenty familiar with that, but when it came to things like sorceresses and the war, he'd only ever gotten a very little out of Seifer about it, so he couldn't even hazard a guess at how the gunblader might be taking this new development. He hoped the other man had done as he'd told him and fetched Caraway and the authorities for them. Dallia's would-be captors were all down for the count, but they could use some reinforcements nonetheless.

He wasn't disappointed. When he and Dallia emerged into the corridor, the first thing they saw was the General rushing toward them, in his outrageous orange costume, natch; and he was followed closely by several members of the security staff, who were doing things like barging through all the closed doors down the hallway and declaring the area "secured". Zell couldn't help but wonder if part of Dallia's plan had been to hire the most incompetent security team she could find.

Zell handed her over to her husband, but he didn't stay to chat; the security staff could handle things from here. He had something slightly more important to attend to; namely, finding Seifer before he did something untoward. Of course, he was also himself feeling worried - Seifer's psyche was a minefield at the best of times, and Zell didn't want to discount the possibility that coming face-to-face with a sorceress, again, might have really thrown him. He avoided both Rinoa and Matron like the plague. He, and everyone around him, steered well clear of any topics that might lead into territories dangerous - how dangerous, really, was it for Seifer? The worries gnawed at Zell more and more as he ascended the grand staircase that led back to the ballroom, so he could search for Seifer.

He didn't have to look far. The party was over, the arrival of the Galbadian police breaking things up quite nicely, but there were still a lot of people lingering around the place, probably waiting for Dallia's reappearance or something they could use as fodder for the gossips. It took him less than a moment to spot Seifer; the other man was standing near the west exit, lurking just out of sight of the crowds in the shadow of a decorative column. He locked eyes with Zell the instant he entered the ballroom, and the martial artist made his way straight over, pasting an innocuous smile on his face. Seifer didn't look any different than usual, but there was no harm in being wary.

"Hey," he said, for lack of anything better. "There you are."

Seifer gave him a probing look, with one eyebrow arched. "Yeah, here I am."

"I was afraid you might have... took off, or something," Zell admitted.

"That wouldn't be very professional," Seifer remarked.

"Yes, and of course you are a model of professionalism."

Seifer gave him another long look; this one had a trace of humor to it. For a minute, neither of them spoke, Seifer observing the crowd, and Zell pretending to do the same while really he was just running his thoughts in circles. They had a lot to discuss, and if he was honest with himself, the events that had happened here tonight weren't even his priority. With that sudden thought, he decided to go for a change of subject; maybe that would cheer Seifer up a little.

"So, I seem to recall that I haven't heard you actually say 'I'm sorry' yet..." he began, leaning very casually against the wall. Seifer glanced sideways down at him, and there was enough of incredulity in the look to show that he knew full well what Zell was talking about.

"The way I recall it, you accepted my apology anyway," Seifer said coolly.

"There's also the matter of a question I asked and you haven't yet answered," Zell pointed out.

"I had a message from Squall just a minute ago," Seifer said next, as casually as if he hadn't just completely changed the subject without even a minor effort at a segue. Zell might have thought he did it on purpose just to avoid answering the question, but Seifer did seem genuinely distracted. He probably had a lot to think about, and Zell wasn't helping by pestering him. Then again, since when did he care if he got on Seifer's bad side? That seriously off-topic remark, however, did demand an explanation.

"I'm afraid you lost me," Zell said.

"He's sending the Ragnarok out to pick us up. It should be here in about..." Seifer glanced down at his wristwatch, and then back up. "Two hours. We're to debrief with Caraway first and then head back."

"What's the rush?" Zell said, slightly confused by this turn of events. Among other things, he had been kind of looking forward to that train ride. "We're going back tomorrow."

"I guess he can't wait that long," was all Seifer said, but he didn't look particularly peeved about the fact, the way he usually did whenever Squall made any kind of decision that involved him. He looked merely thoughtful, and Zell was again struck by how unlike himself he was acting. He didn't seem angry; he wasn't trying to argue or bait Zell, and he had completely ignored the one attempt Zell had made at goading him. Zell realized, with sudden surprise, that he actually _wanted_ to know what was going on in Seifer's head. _Oh, shit, I _care_about him,_ Zell thought with a small shock. He had known for some time that he was taking a liking to the gunblader, but to suddenly come face to face with the feelings was a whole new world of weirdness.

That was the real trouble with becoming involved with Seifer: his blasted unpredictability. If it weren't for moments like these - the rare instances where Seifer wasn't actively being mean, or sarcastic, or provoking, or cold, and was actually just being himself - Zell would never have ventured down the rocky road of liking the bastard in the first place. If he had never gone on this mission with Seifer, he could be at home still happily hating the other man's guts, and consequently being blissfully unaware of what he really was missing - the chance to know the sides of Seifer that he seriously doubted anyone else did. His sense of humor, which was good if you discounted the fact that he thought it was funny to piss Zell off. His brains - who would have thought that Seifer was an expert in historical literature? But even those were just surface layers. The real interesting parts of Seifer only started to show when you put your claws out and dug in a bit.

"So do you think Leonhart will do all the yelling, or will he enlist Quistis and Xu to do some of the work for him?" Seifer remarked snippily.

Zell shrugged. "Maybe if we're lucky, he'll fire us over the phone and save us the hassle of a debriefing."

Seifer cracked a grin at that. "Well, I guess there's a silver lining," he said, still watching across the room as Dallia and her husband finally ascended from the basement, surrounded by a cloud of security personnel. "Anything that makes Squall's day worse is worth the effort."

Zell didn't think he'd say that if he really thought they were in danger of losing their jobs, so he didn't reply. Instead, he took a moment to study the other man's demeanor as he very calmly observed the scene that was taking place at the far end of the ballroom. The paparazzi had converged, swarmlike, on the star couple, and Zell could see Dallia's emphatic gestures as she detailed the thrilling event that had passed not ten minutes ago downstairs. She didn't, interestingly enough, try to drag either of them into the spotlight, but she did catch Zell's eye just for a moment, and he would swear he saw her wink at him. Or perhaps the indication had been meant for Seifer; his expression was dark and uneasy, which was about par for the course as far as interactions went between the two of them.

He grabbed Seifer's arm gently, and when the other man glanced over at him, he nodded in the direction of the exit. "Maybe we should slip out while we have the chance," he suggested quietly. "We can probably beat the press to Caraway's place if we're lucky, and that won't be the case if we stick around here."

Seifer nodded his agreement, and they managed to sneak out with relative ease through the side exit which, what with the excitement going on in other areas of the building, was thankfully unguarded. Since they weren't that far from the mansion at all, Zell proposed that they walk, instead of risking the bus or trying to hail a cab, and Seifer didn't object. He hadn't, in fact, said anything since they left the party, and as they made their way leisurely through the dark streets, Zell wondered if he should break the ice. Actually, he really wanted to ask if Seifer was okay, what with everything that had happened, but somehow he felt that wouldn't go over too well with the other man. But again, what did he really care if he pissed Seifer off? That was just a natural part of their relationship.

"Seifer," he finally said some while later, as they were coming round the corner to Caraway's property. Seifer looked over at him with an expression that was maddeningly impassive. Of all the times for Seifer to have a chronic case of poker face, why now, when Zell actually _wanted_ to get something out of him? Well, there was no point in chickening out now. "Are you okay?"

"That's a pretty loaded question, isn't it?" was Seifer's reply. His tone was as neutral as his face, which only fueled Zell's frustration, and when he responded to this curt inquiry, it was with less of concern and more of irritation.

"No, it's not," Zell said sharply. This was evidently not what Seifer was expecting, because he stopped walking, turning to face Zell with a look of equal parts curiosity and skepticism. Zell stared unabashedly back for a moment or two, hoping his own expression conveyed just how fed up he was with all this running around. If Seifer could just answer a damn question honestly. "It's just a question. I'm not asking for your fucking life's story. A yes or a no is all I'm looking for."

For a long couple of moments, there was no reply, and they stood in the dark street in silence, save for the sounds of traffic drifting over from the next street. "Well then, the short answer is, yes, I'm fine," Seifer finally answered, and if Zell's eyes weren't playing tricks on him, the gunblader was actually smiling now. _It's official,_ Zell thought with a mental sigh, _I don't understand a fucking thing about this guy._

"And the long answer?" he prompted, after a few seconds when Seifer began walking again, and he trailed a few steps behind.

"I'll tell you some other time."

"I'll hold you to that," Zell said, and this time, Seifer was definitely grinning. They continued on down the street, and neither of them spoke on the subject again; but Zell didn't mind particularly. He as good as had Seifer's word that he'd get the full story when the other man was ready to tell it, and that, he supposed, was good enough for now.


	21. Chapter 20

Squall's office was on the list of places that Seifer didn't enjoy being - not as high up there as, say, Galbadian prison, the Kastle, or anywhere near Selphie, but still pretty high on the list. At this particular moment, however, there was nowhere that he wanted to be less. Especially as Squall just sat there on the other side of the desk, just looking at him. Just waiting for him to start talking. Seifer wasn't playing. They'd been up all night and he was at present in a distinctly bad mood, and anyway, it was all there in the mission report, which he had just spent the last hour writing up, and Squall had read at least half a dozen times.

Zell, in the chair beside him, had been quiet for a very long time, but Seifer suspected that was because he had dozed off with his eyes open. They were both exhausted, though it was some small consolation to know that Squall wasn't happy about having to be having this meeting at the crack of dawn. He had wanted them out of Deling City as soon as fucking possible, and in fact the two of them had barely finished their debriefing with the General before a grunt of SeeDs came to usher them into the Ragnarok, which had been deployed very specially just for their convenience. They didn't even have a chance to say their farewells with Dallia - not that Seifer minded, not at all. If he never had to see that woman again, it would be too soon.

Zell wrote up his mission report on the flight back to Garden, but Seifer hadn't been able to muster up the concentration. No wonder Dallia Caraway had repulsed him on first sight - the woman was a goddamn sorceress all along. Even her touch made his skin crawl. The sooner he got far away from her, the better, as far as Seifer was concerned. Although even now that he was half a world away, he still felt creeped out - like she was right there behind him, lurking over his shoulder. Like he couldn't shake off the unpleasant aura she'd left hanging all over him. If Zell had noticed anything, he didn't mention it on the flight back; just sat in the next aisle and diligently filled out his report, and then kindly let Seifer copy it with some minor alterations. His attitude suggested he wanted to talk, but in any case, on a ship surrounded by SeeDs wasn't the place to do it, and Seifer didn't need the distraction.

He could use a bit of it now, though. He was about to fall asleep himself, sitting there and waiting for Squall to get sick of waiting for one of them to say something. He clearly knew that their mission reports were packed full of bullshit, but wasn't yet sure how to call them on it. They - well, mostly Zell - had recapped the past four weeks in detail, only omitting some non-relevant things like fistfights, room service, making out, Zell's minor cock-up last night, and oh yeah, that really amazing sex. They hadn't left anything out that was_really_ important, but considering their history, it wouldn't be surprising if Squall didn't take them at their word. Then again, he'd never believe the truth either, if Seifer were inclined to reveal it to him, so what was the alternative?

"So," the other man finally said, shuffling some papers on his desk in an aimless sort of way. Zell jerked suddenly awake in his chair at the movement. He wasn't even trying to look alert, which seemed to piss Squall off even more - which, in turn, made Seifer feel a little better. If there was one good thing about this whole debacle, it was that Squall was going to have to deal with the aftermath. Seifer almost smiled, but thought better of it at the last moment.

"So, what?" Zell replied, with an edge to his tone that Squall clearly wasn't used to hearing, judging by his surprised expression. "Can we go now? I just want to go to bed."

"Not until I've got your story straight," Squall said in response.

Zell made a frustrated noise in his throat. "I've told it to you four times. What else do you want to hear?"

"Do _you_ have anything to say?" Squall asked, turning his attention to Seifer.

"It's all in my report," Seifer replied coolly.

"Is it?"

They all three sat in silence for a minute or two more. Zell was beginning to look distinctly grumpy, which Seifer knew was due to a lack of sleep. He himself was desperately longing for a nice, soft bed - with or without Zell in it, didn't matter - but he also had the recollection of certain of last night's events to keep him feeling relatively cheerful, all things considered. In fact, if you edited out the entire portion of the night that included Dallia Caraway, it had been a very good night indeed. Zell had given him every indication that he was in favor of continuing what they had begun yesterday, and even if Seifer had to make that somewhat unseemly confession to get them to come to terms, it was well worth it. Besides, it seemed to gratify Zell whenever he acted like an idiot, not that that meant he would be making any more attempts if he could help it. There were other ways to gratify Zell.

"What are you smiling at?" Squall asked sharply, jerking Seifer out of a pleasant daydream and back to reality. He cleared his expression at once.

"I was just remembering that I'm glad I'm not you," he said, watching Squall's eyebrow twitch. "Again."

Something in his expression must have been giving him away, because Zell shot him a a suspicious sideways look, but he ignored it. Not that he'd be surprised to find Zell on the same page - he had a nagging feeling that Zell's mind, once you got past the prudish crust, was deep dark pit of perversity. He acted at being super straight-laced, and then suddenly morphed into a sexual virtuoso between the sheets... well, Zell had always been overly energetic; if that had once been a quality that annoyed Seifer, he couldn't find a single reason to complain about it now. And who'd have guessed the martial artist could do more with his mouth than just yap?

"What I want to know is, what am I going to tell all the goddamn journalists that'll be calling me in a couple hours?" Squall said, scribbling violently on a paper in front of him.

"Tell them to go fuck themselves," Zell answered huffily.

"Zell," the headmaster said sharply.

"What?" Zell said, scowling. "Alright, I'm sorry. That was too far. But, christ, really. Why do you have to tell them anything?"

Squall was torn between looking pissed off at Zell's attitude and seeming curious at his point. Seifer didn't chime in. He suddenly had a new respect for Zell. He'd always assumed the other man worshipped the seat that Squall's frigid hind end sat on, like everyone else. Then again, maybe Zell was just tired and cranky.

"Let Dallia and her people deal with the press," Zell went on in a tired tone of voice. "You don't owe them anything. If anything, _they_ owe _us_, don't they?"

"Hm," was all Squall said, which was his way of acquiescing that Zell was right.

"So can we go?"

Squall said nothing, and Zell made a loud, frustrated sound. Seifer continued to hold his tongue, ignoring the probing looks that the brunet was giving him. It was clear that Squall couldn't think of a legitimate reason to keep them there, except for because he said so, but all the same, Seifer wasn't keen on giving him more fuel by opening his mouth and saying something undoubtedly unwelcome. He'd been a very good boy throughout the whole meeting, quite in contrast to Zell, who could be distinctly catty when he was overtired. Zell, however, was a star player - rank A SeeD, war hero, and the headmaster's best fucking friend - and Seifer was just a screw-up with a bad attitude who'd been on thin ice with the whole of Garden Administration even before this monumental cock-up of a mission. If Squall was looking for reasons to give Seifer the boot, he probably had a whole list of them by now. Perhaps he was just trying to pick his favorite among them.

"There's just one more thing, I guess," Squall finally said.

"Oh, just the one?" Seifer muttered, unable to stop himself.

The other man chose to ignore that bit of cheek, and went on, looking not at Seifer but at Zell, "neither of you knew that she was a sorceress? Before tonight, I mean?"

"No, 'course not," Zell replied without hesitation. After he said this, however, he seemed to have a second thought, and then cast a wary look over at Seifer. "You didn't, did you?"

"No!" Seifer spat back, more than a little offended. Zell didn't have much faith in him, did he? "As if I'd keep something like that a secret. Hell, if I'd known, I probably would have rolled out the red carpet for Seera and her goons."

"Well, that's reassuring," Squall said dryly, while Zell shot him a very cross look.

"He's kidding," he said.

"Are you sure?" Squall replied.

"Yeah, are you sure?" Seifer mimicked, earning himself a scowl from the headmaster and an expression of incredulity from Zell. "Actually, I'm really starting to sympathize with these anti-sorceress groups. At least they get told shit."

Zell jumped noisily out of his seat, looking very much like he wanted to clock Seifer a good one, while Squall watched on, with an expression of mild interest in the exchange. Of course, his expressions were rarely anything but mild, so that didn't say much. "Would you stop talking already?" Zell hissed. "Or are you trying to get yourself fired?"

"Well, if it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen," Seifer said coolly, which only added fuel to the fire. Before Zell could make a move, however - physical or otherwise - Squall made a loud and very pointed throat-clearing noise that made him reconsider, and he sat back down in his chair. Seifer was somehow disappointed, although he couldn't say why - making a scene in front of their esteemed commander was unwise for a whole list of reasons, and not least because Seifer had no intention of engaging Zell in another brawl; the emotions he was having toward the martial artist at the moment were less of a violent nature than they were of a passionate one. He rather hoped this wasn't evident on his face; Squall was studying him with a peculiar look.

"He doesn't mean that," Zell explained, managing to sound both reasonable and frustrated at the same time. "He's just being a dick like _always_ so ignore him."

"Why are you defending him?" Squall asked.

"Yeah, why are you defending me?" Seifer repeated in a mocking tone, and he could practically hear Zell's teeth grinding. Why he was suddenly determined to piss the other man off, he didn't know - but he was suddenly very fed up with everything; with Zell and Squall, and this meeting, and the whole absurd farce that had been this mission. Zell was glaring daggers at him, but it was Squall who spoke next, and he didn't sound all too composed himself.

"Shut up," he said, heaving a sigh and putting his head in his hands. "Both of you shut up. Good god," he said wearily, rubbing his eyes. "I've heard enough. Seifer, you're dismissed. Do me a favor, and don't show your face for a couple of days, alright?"

"Gladly," Seifer shot back, getting up brusquely from his seat. Although a part of him would have very happily done the exact opposite just for the sake of pissing Squall off, what he really wanted more than anything was some time alone - away from Squall and Quistis, and even Zell, and just people in general - away from Garden life, if only that were an option. He needed to get his head straight about any number of things, and Squall was giving him an opportunity to do so, was more or less ordering him to keep his head down for the next few days, which suited Seifer perfectly. He wasn't going to walk out, however, without being snarky about it. "Solitary confinement is starting to look like a _vacation_ compared to this bullshit," he said coolly.

"Am I dismissed?" Zell chimed in hopefully.

"No. I need a word with you," Squall said in reply. Zell glared up at Seifer as though it were his fault. In fact, it probably was; Seifer didn't doubt that he was going to be the primary topic of conversation once he left the room. It was Zell's own fault; if the idiot would just stop defending him and let him dig his own grave, he wouldn't even be involved. Seifer tried not to look too concerned about it as he exited the room, but he did hope that Zell wasn't going to get chewed out too badly.

Xu and one of her DC lackeys were waiting in the hall outside when he closed the door. Seifer couldn't help but feel a mild sense of satisfaction at the fact that she looked dog-tired and quite unhappy at having to be up at this hour of the morning. At least it was a comfort to know he wasn't the only one having a bad day. She didn't say anything as he passed her, but just gave him a very nasty look, which was mimed with less success by her companion.

_It's good to be home,_ he thought bitterly, as he made his way back to the dorms.

* * *

Squall must have been taking lessons from Quistis. He was doing that very Quistis thing of just staring at Zell, utterly in silence, until Zell gave up and let her have whatever she was after, which was usually gossip. Mostly this worked because Zell always knew what she was getting at, and if he didn't, he always had some juicy little tidbit or other on hand to fob her off with. At the moment, he hadn't a clue what Squall was getting at, and he was cranky and frustrated and altogether too tired to care.

"What's this about?" he finally asked, when it was evident that Squall wasn't planning to tell him anytime soon.

"I'm just wondering if there's anything you want to... add to your mission report," the other man said mildly, in an aggravatingly neutral tone of voice.

"Everything important is in there already."

"Everything important?" Squall repeated.

"Well, everything pertinent," Zell replied, which was a rather good answer if he did say so himself. Diplomacy might have been more Seifer's game, but Zell had a few things down too, although he rarely had to utilize such tact with Squall, of all people. But then again, he rarely had anything of such a nature as his and Seifer's relationship to hide.

"Are you two like that all the time?"

_Well, not _all_the time,_ Zell thought, giving a little grin. He and Seifer were able to get along sometimes, and he could recall one occasion in particular where they'd managed to put aside their differences long enough to discover how to _really_ get along. "Yeah, pretty much," was all he said in response to Squall's question. He could hardly answer otherwise; he'd practically begged Squall before this mission to reconsider their partnership for the very reason that they couldn't get along.

"You weren't exaggerating," Squall said, slumping down in his chair.

"Told you I wasn't. But I guess it's not as bad as that," Zell admitted, because the other man was starting to look rather grave. "I mean, as long as we stay out of each other's way, we're fine. But we can hardly have a conversation without bickering. I guess I'm just used to it."

"You guys fight?"

"Squall, what are you after?" Zell asked, and to his satisfaction, Squall began to look a little chagrined. "If you're looking for me to tattle on Seifer, you're barking up the wrong tree. He's a dick, and yeah, he needs to learn when to stop. But I'm not gonna go cataloging every little thing he does wrong and give you a report. We both could have been better."

Instead of taking offense at this little speech, Squall started to look amused at this, which was both strange and disconcerting. "You're defending him again," he pointed out.

"I'm not trying to. I'm just saying, a lot of shit went wrong, and you can't just blame him. And anyway, you should have known when you sent us into this how it was going to be. I mean, jeez, me and him?" Zell finished, now more than a little peeved. What was Squall expecting, anyway? Just putting him and Seifer together was already a bad decision in itself.

Luckily for him, Squall seemed to realize the same thing. "You're probably right," he said.

"And by the way, whose bright idea was that, I want to know? I'm sure it wasn't yours," Zell added, and was gratified to see the headmaster now looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"It doesn't matter."

"It kind of matters to me. I'm not gonna lie, Squall, that was just about the worst month of my life so far," he said. "Just about" were the key words there, he supposed, because it was true that the month had ended on a very much better note than it had began. But he didn't know if all the bickering, all the fights, and all the fucking attitude from Seifer were really worth it. Seifer could be hard to deal with on a good day, and he didn't seem to have many of those.

Of course, when he was disposed to be agreeable, he could be, well, really agreeable. Zell would never have guessed. And everything he'd learned about the other man - well, maybe it _was_ worth it. For fuck's sake, it had to be worth it if he was considering being in a _relationship_ with Seifer.

"Alright. You can go," Squall said, looking ever more desperate as he perused the mess of papers in front of him. Zell almost felt bad for him for the shit Garden Administration was going to give him when all the details of this mission came out, until he remembered that he'd brought it on himself. What was he thinking, pairing Zell and Seifer up? He should have known from the first moment that only disaster would follow. So Zell didn't waste too much of his pity on the brunet as he got up from his seat, without another word - god forbid Squall suddenly change his mind and try to stop Zell from reaching his bed - and left the office, still trying to wrap his brain around that last somewhat startling revelation.

Had it been worth it? The fights, both physical and verbal, the insults and jibes, the blatant taunts. Seifer's more often than not rotten moods and his ridiculous diva-esque behavior. His stubborn refusal to be honest even with himself, and his stupid determination to win whatever imaginary war he thought they were having. All that he'd had to deal with these past four weeks, and then some. By the time he got back to his dorm and crawled into bed, he already had the answer - it was easy to say it was worth it when he thought of what he had gained.

* * *

"There you are," Fuujin said, poking her head around the end of the bookshelf that shielded Seifer from the outside world. She said this as though she had spent hours searching for him, when in fact she ought to have known exactly where he'd be; he told her earlier that morning when they spoke on the phone, before she got back to Garden. He'd spent a lot of time in the library over the past few days, because it was the quietest place in Garden that wasn't his dorm room, among other things.

"Welcome back," he said to her, shutting his book. She joined him at the small table in the corner, looking very fresh and energetic and unusually tan from the week she'd just spent in Dollet.

"I should say the same to you," she replied, giving him a sly look. "You just got back in a few days ago yourself, didn't you?"

"On Sunday," he said. It was technically not a lie; it was very early Sunday morning when they were flown back from Deling City, but it was still Sunday. "How was Dollet?"

"It was good. How was Deling City?" she countered, and Seifer didn't need to see the devious look in her eye or the smirk on her face to know just what she was getting at. He had promised her details those couple of weeks ago, and she had hinted quite heavily on the phone that morning that she hadn't forgotten. And boy, did he have some details for her. But whether he wanted to divulge them at this time, in this particular place, he had yet to determine.

"The usual," he said, an answer so vague as to be meaningless, which is the effect he was aiming for. This was not the answer she was seeking, and the glare she gave him was probably meant to reinforce that fact, but he chose not to notice it, instead pretending to be absorbed in his book. Raijin chose that moment to come barreling around the corner in his usual oafish way, putting a quick end to whatever question had been on her lips just before she was able to ask it. Seifer found he was grateful for the distraction; he really wasn't certain he wanted to talk about Zell with her, and he knew she was itching to ask.

He was more than a little frustrated when it came to the martial artist. After their last conversation in Deling City, he had expected that they'd be getting together to talk about some things that had been rather up in the air at the time. In fact, he had only seen Zell twice in the five days since they'd returned, and at a distance; they hadn't spoken once. If he didn't know better, he'd think the other man was avoiding him, but he couldn't fathom why.

He'd fully expected to have the entire situation sorted out by now, and the fact that he didn't was aggravating. They had slept together. They had both admitted to not exactly disliking the other. It was not complicated. On a slightly less important note, Seifer was kind of pissed off that he had been sleeping alone the last five nights, after that amazing experience in Zell's bed.

He was always one to take initiative when he wanted something, and he had no problem making the first move again; the only thing that had stopped him was the fact that, considering the way he had deliberately tried to wind Zell up the other day in Squall's office, he might be something of a persona non grata at the moment. So he decided to give Zell a few days to cool down over it, and was actually fairly surprised that the other man _didn't_ come calling the first few days after they were back. It appeared Zell wasn't as eager as he had seemed to get the answers Seifer owed him.  
"Hey, guys," Raijin said in his "library voice", which was just a shade quieter than his normal voice, but the library staff had evidently agreed to compromise. "You shouldn't'a run off so quick, Fuu. I was trying to follow you, ya know?"

Her expression made it quite clear that she'd known, which, Seifer guessed, was the very reason she'd done it. Raijin sat down next to her, and Seifer was amused, and glad, to find that he was pretty much back to normal. He started chitchatting about their trip to Dollet, and Seifer nodded through the one-sided conversation, ignoring the pointed looks being sent his way by Fuujin. She appeared to be trying to communicate some kind of dire warning, or perhaps a threat, with the power of her eye alone. Seifer pretended not to notice, happily listening to Raijin's emphatic enumerations of the loads of fun they'd had at the beach instead.

"So how was your trip, Seif? You been gone a while," he said eventually, when he'd run out of adjectives to describe all the exciting things they'd done.

"It was fine. I didn't have that much fun," he answered coolly. This blatant lie caused Fuujin to finally look up from the magazine she'd been perusing in lieu of having to listen to her partner ramble on.

"Are you sure?" she said, every bit as nonchalant as he was. "You didn't even do any sightseeing?"

"Oh, I saw the sights," he said, and Fuujin smirked.

"I read in a magazine or something that Deling City has more outdoor gardens than anywhere else in the world. Ya know, with, like, topiary statues and stuff," Raijin remarked, with his usual utter lack of perception. Fuujin rolled her eyes.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Jus' some trivia," he said defensively. Fuujin shot Seifer a look which he avoided. She was clearly refusing to take the hint that he wasn't ready to have that conversation yet. "Did you see any while you were there?"

"Topiaries?" Seifer said, which made Fuujin suddenly snort in laughter. Raijin gave her a puzzled and hurt look as she dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, which made Seifer grin; he rarely was able to catch her by surprise.

"What are you laughing at? What's the joke?"

"There's no joke," Seifer explained to his friend, who seemed to think that Fuujin's laughter was at his expense, and looked accordingly offended. "Fuu has a tendency to make light of things that are really not at all funny."

"I'd have to disagree," she retorted, still biting her lip to keep her giggles under control. "You're just too biased to be able to see the humor in the situation."

"What situation?" Raijin said helplessly.

"There's no situation, and if there _were_ a situation, it wouldn't be even remotely funny," was Seifer's answer to that, and he gave Fuujin a very stern look, hoping it would be enough to convey his desire to end the conversation before it started. Her grin faded a little, and her eye, still fixed on him, narrowed as she adopted an expression of suspicion.

"_If_ there were a situation, in any case, I'm sure it's something you could trust your _best friends_ enough to talk about," she said in response, sounding now a little irritated. Seifer was getting irritated himself. Why couldn't she drop it? Was knowing the whole story so important to her that she didn't care that Raijin was right there? It wasn't that Seifer minded so much if they both knew, or that he trusted Raijin any less than his partner, but he didn't even have his own head straight on the issue yet.

He decided to go on the offensive. "And what about your situation?" he asked, watching Fuujin's expression transform from slightly bemused to just plain pissed as she realized what he meant. She'd obviously done something to get Raijin back to acting normal around her, but she evidently didn't like being reminded of the fact that he was in love with her, or whatever was going on. "I don't recall you finding that very funny the last time we talked about it."

"Because it's not funny, and also, we agreed to not talk about it again."

"And we agreed to not talk about _my_ situation again," he said shortly, and she frowned deeply. "So maybe we should all just not talk."

"But I don't know what's going on," Raijin chipped in, sounding rather lost. The other two ignored him as they engaged in a silent argument, staring each other down across the table. Seifer knew from experience that the more he fought it, the more Fuujin would want to have her way, and she looked determined already. And it was too late, anyway, because Raijin would never let the subject drop until he was in on it, which she knew very well or she wouldn't have said anything in front of him in the first place. This was probably her way of paying Seifer back for daring to scheme without her consent - which he maybe deserved a little, because she was, after all, his best friend, and he ought to have trusted her.

"Seifer's in love with Zell," she said, before he even had a chance to fortify himself to say it. Then she grinned, and the expression was so bursting with smugness that Seifer began to be pissed again.

"I was going to tell him."

"I know, but I wanted to say it. It's better than 'I told you so'," she said happily, sitting back and crossing her arms in a very satisfied way.

"Alright, alright. Are you happy now?" he asked bitterly.

"I'll be happier when you tell me what happened after I left Deling City."

"Maybe I won't tell you at all," he snapped. "I certainly don't feel like it after what you just did."

She began to look a bit chagrined, which eased some of Seifer's anger. "Well, sorry," she said defensively, but she did seem sorry. "I guess I was excited. It's not like it's every day that you're in love with someone."

This statement was at once so weird and so sentimental that Seifer was caught completely off-guard, and forgot all about being cross with her. He never knew what to do when Fuujin started acting affectionate, and it was his major weakness - his inner sap began to come out where she was involved. Fortunately for them both, her soft side was the one that she kept pretty well hidden. She had seen him through a lot of bad times, so he supposed that any little forward movement in his life was cause for celebration in her book. Well, she always claimed that she just wanted to see him happy - he was certainly happier now than he'd been in a very long time.

"That was a low blow," he said, but he wasn't irritated, and the half-smile that she gave him showed that she knew just that.

"Wait a minute," Raijin said suddenly, re-entering the conversation as his brain finally caught up to Fuujin's declaration. "Seifer, you're in love with someone?"

"Yes," he said, and his heart gave a little skip - oh, right, it was the first time he'd really admitted it out loud, wasn't it? "With Zell."

Raijin screwed up his face in earnest thought for a moment or two, while Fuujin watched him with a half-amused, half-incredulous look. "Hm," he said finally, shrugging, "sorry, I don't know her."

"That's because it's not a 'her'," Seifer said coolly.

"Than what is it?"

There was a moment's silence as Fuujin cast him a glance, looking slightly pained. "A 'he'," she said eventually, in the same tone one might use to explain maths to a child. Raijin was clearly not getting it; Seifer didn't think it was deliberate, but just that the other man couldn't quite connect the dots in his head yet.

He thought some more. "Who?" he asked, frowning deeply.

"Zell Dincht," Seifer answered. He leaned forward over the table, smiling a little. "You know him. Short guy, tattoo, ridiculous hair. Always spoiling for a fight."

"I think he's genuinely in shock," Fuujin remarked, as her partner's expression took on the cast of someone trying to mentally work calculus.

"Forget it," Seifer said, shutting his book and pushing his chair out. Before he could get up, however, Raijin's brain finally jumped to attention, and he leapt out of his seat with a loud and vehement exclamation that had the library staff coming around the corner to shush the three of them with wagging fingers and cold stares. Raijin sat back down, looking chastened.

"Look," Seifer went on, leaning toward Raijin and lowering his voice considerably. "It's not a big deal. So don't go making a thing out of it."

"Not a big deal?" the other man whispered back. "Seifer, you're in love! It's kind of a _huge_ deal!"

"Stop saying that. Don't say that out loud."

"Sayin' what?" Raijin asked dumbly.

Seifer gritted his teeth, mostly at Fuujin's expression, which was maddeningly smug. "You know," he said lowly, grimacing as Raijin gave him an utterly blank stare. "Those... two words. Don't say them anymore."

"Well what am I supposed to say?"

"Nothing. Let's all drop the subject," Seifer suggested.

"No, but you don't understand. This is great. We're totally happy for you," Raijin went on, ignoring his last comment. He looked earnestly happy, which was to his credit, Seifer supposed - in contrast with Fuujin, who was smiling, but mostly in a triumphant way. "I mean, Fuu and I seriously thought you were gonna be alone_forever_. We, like, talked about it, and-"

"Shut up, would you!" Fuujin cut in, giving her partner a hard whack upside the head. Raijin just looked at her cluelessly.

"Oh, I see," was Seifer's response, as cool as he could manage. A subject of frequent discussion between them was his love life? Well, he could turn the tables on this conversation. "Well, since we're on the subject, I don't recall the last time either of _you_ two were seeing someone. How about you, Fuu? Got any secret hidden feelings you'd like to fess up to?" he asked, directing his smirk toward her.

"Consider the subject dropped," was all she said, picking up her magazine and pretending to regain interest in it. Seifer might have been satisfied with just that, had he not been in a particularly sour mood to begin with, made worse by her refusal to take a hint, so he decided to go for blood.

"No? Not seeing anybody lately?" he said casually, sitting back in his chair. He turned his gaze to Raijin. "Good news for you, then, isn't it?"

"Ha... ha... how's that?" Raijin replied, laughing nervously. He looked lost, but was clearly uneasy about the direction the conversation was going. Seifer only smiled, while Fuujin made a violent attempt to kick him from under the table which failed because her legs were too short to reach.

"Well, you're the one that's in love with her," he said, and for the split second before Raijin began causing a scene, Seifer was able to savor the look of pure irritation on Fuujin's face. There was no mistaking that expression; she was going to get him back for this, and then some. But for the moment, the frustrated little part of him that called for revenge was satisfied.

"Seifer! If you tell her, she'll know!" Raijin yelled, leaping out of his seat with a complete and total lack of coordination and knocking several chairs askew. His expression was horrified, and only grew more so when Fuujin punched him in the arm a moment later and declared, "I already knew, you jackass!"

Raijin fled the scene, dodging around one of the library staff, who had come around the shelves with arms crossed and an expression that radiated disapproval. "I'm going to have to ask you all to leave," she said frostily, but it was unnecessary; Raijin was already long gone, and Fuujin was getting up from her chair, as well, clearly not intending to stay. The look she gave Seifer was hardly warm, but the fact that she was jumping up to go after the other man spoke volumes about her real attitude toward the situation, he thought.

"Thanks a lot," she said crisply. "Do you know how long it's going to take me to bully him into being normal again?"

Seifer only shrugged, smiling, which had her bidding him farewell with a sneer. He wasn't much bothered; she'd get over it, and anyway, she'd probably wanted the excuse to bully Raijin, though she wouldn't say as much. Besides, if pissing her off a little kept her away from him and off his case for a few more days, there was a plus side. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that he wasn't the only one for whom things weren't going as planned.

He gave the two of them a moment to get well clear of the library, and then he stood to leave himself, still aware of the cold eye of the library girl logging his every move. He didn't mind being thrown out, as it were; Zell had never shown up, and that was the real reason Seifer had taken to hanging out in the library the past few days. He knew Zell was in tight with the library staff - he used to date one of them, if Seifer remembered correctly. In any case, he was always hanging about here, so Seifer figured it was only a matter of time before he ran into the martial artist here... except, for whatever reason, Zell was avoiding the library, too.

Well, it wasn't worth stressing over. He wasn't feeling impatient enough to be frustrated yet - Zell would have to come to him eventually, if he couldn't manage to catch the other man long enough to get a real conversation out of him soon. Seifer had rather that it didn't come to that, but if he had to wait, he'd wait. He'd done a lot of chasing over the last few weeks; now it was time to pull back a little and see if Zell would recoup the distance.

It was a fine enough plan, but the truth was, he was actually kind of _missing_ Zell. After being confined to such close quarters with the man for four weeks, it was almost strange to _not_ have him around twenty-four-seven, bouncing around, chattering away, and just generally being a pest in any way possible. Of course, living with Zell had been a challenge in the extreme, and only half because Seifer had wanted him more than he was even willing to admit to himself - he wouldn't do that again in a hurry. But having Zell around was nice, sleeping with him - the warmth of another body next to him, the quiet sound of someone's heartbeat lulling him to sleep. That was something Seifer had never known before, and that he had liked it so much he surprised even himself.

_I'm turning into such a lamer,_ he thought, heaving a sigh, as he exited the library. Thing was, if he asked himself, he didn't even mind. Living his life the way he had for the past couple of years hadn't gotten him very far, after all, so maybe it was time for a change. If changing himself was the first step down that path, he found he was surprisingly unopposed to the idea. Fuujin would say, teasingly, that he was finally growing up... and he might not disagree with her. The feeling of moving forward after years of stagnation was refreshing. Thinking about it that way, he could easily wait a few more days to see Zell - what else did he have besides time, anyway? 

* * *

Zell had just stepped out the door when he heard his name being called from down the hallway. He froze in place, and didn't even look round; if he made eye contact, she'd never let him escape. Was it too late to turn right around and lock himself in his dorm room? He realized that he had spent too much time considering it when a tiny hand appeared on his shoulder, and he had no choice but to turn around and face his pursuer. He was happy to find, however, that it was only Selphie. "Oh, it's you," he said with a grin.

She gave him a sly look. "You sound relieved. Who did you think I was?"

He only shrugged, and she laughed, as if it were some kind of joke. He doubted she'd have found it funny if she knew he had been considering running from her - but of course, that was only because he thought it had been Miri finally catching up to him. He had been dodging her for the better part of a week already, and according to eyewitness reports, she was getting suspicious of his continual failure to report directly to her after returning from Galbadia. He knew he was going to have to face her eventually, but hell if he knew what he was going to say when she asked some questions that he wasn't certain he could answer.

"So look," Selphie said brightly, bouncing just slightly on the balls of her feet, "I'm in town for another whole week, and you know Rinoa is in town with the Owls right now, and Irvine is coming into Balamb tomorrow afternoon, which you know means that all six of us are actually going to be in the same place at the same time! So we're having a party Saturday night, which I organized. I don't care what your plans are, you're coming, and here's your invitation!"

She pressed a large, powder-blue envelope into his hands. It wasn't like he had any plans to give up, but he didn't tell her that. Even if she hadn't been so excited that a refusal to attend her party would probably get him the business end of a nunchaku across the head, he would have been glad to go. He couldn't remember the last time that the whole gang had been together at once, and they probably hadn't all been at Garden since the last party that Selphie threw here, which was just after the war ended. He had some catching up to do with both her and Irvine, not necessarily together.

"I invited lots of people, so it'll be a big party," Selphie went on, with that cheerful, just-short-of-psychotic smile on her face that was trademark of her talking about her favorite topic: parties. "You know, Nida and Xu and a bunch of the SeeDs. But no one underage. We are gonna get all kinds of crazy."

"Sounds great," Zell said, taking a closer look at his invitation. The envelope was thick, which, knowing Selphie, meant that something was probably going to pop out of it when he opened it. All around the edges of the envelope were cute little drawings of chocobos and hot dogs, with glitter liberally applied, of course. Selphie was clutching a whole stack of envelopes in all colors, and upon seeing Zell admiring her artwork on his own, she brought out a few others to showcase.

"Rinoa helped me with the invites," she said proudly, shaking pink sparkles all over him in her excitement. "We spent all day yesterday on them. Oh, do you want to do me a favor?"

"Sure thing," he said. She filed through her stack of envelopes, and pulled one out to hand over to him.

"Pass that on to Seifer for me," she said, looking somewhat sour. "Rinoa said I had to invite him but feel free to make it clear that he's _not_ wanted."

Zell grimaced. She had to pick the one favor in the world that he'd rather not do for her. Seifer was the other person he hadn't seen since their return from Deling City - it wasn't exactly that he was avoiding the gunblader, not in the way that he was avoiding Miri, but they hadn't happened to see each other for the past several days and Zell found that he didn't really mind that. He wasn't feeling all that clearheaded where Seifer was concerned. Despite all his resolution that last night in Galbadia, he was having some second thoughts about what he really wanted from Seifer. But that wasn't something he could really explain to Selphie without revealing a bit too much, so he'd have to come up with some other excuse.

He glanced down at Seifer's invitation. It was dark and considerably battered, as though Selphie had decided that it didn't need as much care as all the others. It was covered in angry-looking doodles of skulls and missiles, and Zell was afraid to wonder what was going to pop up at Seifer when he opened it. And Selphie still claimed that she wasn't holding a grudge.

"I dunno," Zell said, trying to look nonchalant. "You might want to deliver that particular message yourself. I don't want you blaming me if he shows up at your party because I wasn't mean enough."

"Oh, I didn't think of that," she said, frowning.

"In fact, if it's me, he'd probably show up just to spite me," Zell added coolly.

"You're probably right," Selphie agreed, and she took the invitation back. "I'll do it myself. I won't leave any room for interpretation, if you know what I mean."

"Well, don't go hitting him."

She stuck her tongue out at him, looking devious. "I'll do what I want!" she declared emphatically. "No one's gonna give me detention for beating Seifer up a little. But I won't go overboard, okay?"

Zell was pretty sure she was joking, so he just grinned and nodded. She winked at him, and then skipped away, calling back over her shoulder, "see you Saturday! Bring something good!"

He waved as she went around the corner, and he could hear her whistling a random tune down the corridor until she was out of hearing. Zell almost felt tired just from that conversation; he had forgotten how much of a handful Selphie could be when she was on a party high. On the bright side, it usually only lasted until her post-party hangover kicked in, so he'd probably only have to hear about the decorations, or the guest list, or the caterer, or the fantastic new drink she'd just discovered a few dozen times between now and Saturday. He just smiled to himself, turning to go back into his room. Selphie never changed; she had been just as free-spirited the day they met.

He put the invitation on his desk without opening it. He had been taking it easy this week, really feeling the need for some relaxation after that debacle in Galbadia, but he found that he was looking forward to this party, as well. Hanging out together as a group was something that the six of them didn't do often enough. With that thought, though, he couldn't help but wonder if Seifer would show up. Selphie would no doubt make it crystal clear that he was neither expected to go nor wanted there, and anyway, Seifer never had any interest in hanging out with them. And to tell the truth, Zell would prefer it stayed that way - he really wasn't sure he wanted to share the likable Seifer with anyone just yet.

Well, it probably didn't matter; it was unlikely that Seifer would show up, even if Selphie presented her invitation on a gold platter on bended knee. That was probably for the better. Zell didn't want his relationship with Seifer and his relationship with his friends mixing in any way whatsoever. Really, it was best if he and Seifer stayed as far as possible from each other in public, all things considered. He suddenly recalled what had happened with Quistis just before they left for Deling City; she would no doubt be watching the both of them, but particularly Seifer, like a hawk after being duped by him once already. With that thought, Zell was certain that no good could come of Seifer mixing with his friends. Things were best left the way they had been up until now: with Seifer very far away from them all.

Zell didn't like it somehow. Wasn't it kind of sad? He had to remind himself that Seifer had done just fine for himself up to now; and besides that, if he had wanted to be friends with anybody, he certainly could. He chose to distance himself from them by being a dick. Zell decided not to pity him too much. He had his own friends and he clearly didn't want to mix with them, anyhow. Well... except for Zell, with whom he'd done a fair amount of mixing lately. Zell grinned to himself as he savored the recollection of it with satisfaction. Then he shook himself out of it, trying to shoo away the mental images; it wouldn't do to get all hot and bothered now. In fact, if just thinking about Seifer was going to lead to this kind of mental block, it was_definitely_ better if they avoided each other in places where such behavior might be noted by attentive individuals.

If only they weren't avoiding each other in private, things would be just about perfect. Zell wasn't going to worry about it too much; Seifer surely had his own reasons for keeping a distance, and Zell was satisfied with the assurance that he'd find out what they were eventually. Seifer still had a lot to answer for, after all; what was one more thing added to the list?


	22. Chapter 21

Zell grumbled indistinctly to himself as he rolled out of bed. The one day this week he'd decided to sleep in - reasoning to himself that he was probably going to be up until all hours of the morning at Selphie's party, and therefore he deserved a lie-in - and someone had to come knocking at the crack of dawn. He glanced at the clock - well, quarter to nine. Close enough.

"Carmina?" he said with slight surprise as he opened the door. She beamed up at him with a load of books and things in her arms. If he had expected anyone, it probably would have been Miri, Quistis, or Seifer, in precisely that order, but the surprise wasn't unpleasant. "What are you doing here?"

"Did I wake you?"

"Yeah."

"Good," she said, looking positively cheerful that she had managed to ruin someone's morning. She pulled something from the stack of book in her arms and handed it to him. "The new issue of Combat King came out yesterday. And here's last month's issue, which you never even picked up."

"Oh, thanks," he said, taking the two magazines, and trying with limited success to not feel utterly confused. "So you guys are doing home delivery now, is that it?" he asked, with just a hint of sarcasm.

"Not at all. I actually came to deliver a message," she said coolly. "You've got two books overdue. Not that I would normally come round just to harass you about that. It's just that a few students have been asking after that plant encyclopedia."

Zell had to think about it for a moment. He didn't even remember borrowing it. "Okay, I'll... get on that."

Carmina gave him a studying look, with that same smile on her face as though she was enjoying a joke to which he was not privy. "In fact, that's also not the reason I came round," she said, contemplating her nails. "You need to come by the library and have a talk with Miri. She's been nagging my ear off about you avoiding her all week long."

"I haven't done that," Zell lied. "If she wants to get a hold of me, she can just call."

"She said she tried that. She also said she waved at you in the cafeteria and you turned around and walked away," Carmina remarked.

"I must have not seen her."

"Twice."

Zell didn't say anything. Carmina's expression was everything that was smug and satisfied. She was clearly well aware that Miri was waiting on some gossip, and was eager to hear it secondhand as soon as Zell was finished telling the other girl. _Fat fucking chance,_ Zell thought to himself. If Miri thought she was just going to go and blab his sordid little secrets to anyone she pleased, it'd be the last time he ever confided in her.

"She's working today at noon," Carmina went on, rearranging the stack of books in her arm with a breezy casualness. "Bring your books back and kill two birds with one stone. She probably won't even remember about the late fees."

"I'll be sure to do that," Zell replied, shutting the door on her and her self-satisfied grin. He heard her striding away down the hall, the stacked heels of her boots click-clacking on the floor. So Miri was employing her friend to guilt-trip him into confessing, now was she? She had guts. That still didn't make Zell want to have that talk with her.

He supposed he had to look at it from her point of view. He had been utterly panicked and sure of disaster before leaving for Deling City, the last time they had talked. She had been waiting now for more than a month to know how things had gone, and whether or not Zell had managed to keep up all the claims he'd made beforehand - something about not playing Seifer's games and such, he recalled. What a joke. Not only had he played Seifer's game, he had taken it over and beaten Seifer at it to boot. That, he figured, was worth telling her, except for the fact that to do so would be to reveal a lot more about the budding relationship between him and Seifer than he was sure he wanted. Especially as he wasn't as of yet certain of where said relationship was going.

He did a quick search of his room and found the two books Carmina had mentioned. She had said that Miri wasn't working until noon; he could probably pop down to the library right now with minimal risk of seeing her. Now that he was up, he wasn't going back to bed, that was certain. If he went out early in the day and did something productive, it would make him feel like less of a slob for sitting around the rest of the day watching bad telly and eating junk food, which was the plan. With that thought, he hopped in the shower, and then collected his books and rather cheerfully headed down to the library.

* * *

He didn't know why he was surprised that Carmina had straight-up lied to his face; the first thing he saw when he walked through the door was Miri, standing at the desk with a barcode scanner and a tower of books, giving him a look that said quite clearly that she not only knew very well that he had been purposely avoiding her, but that she had some choice words for him regarding his behavior this past week. He really shouldn't have run away from her, he thought with a pang of regret - although he would have done it now, if that were possible, but their eyes had met and there was no pretending that he hadn't noticed her. So, gathering his courage for the inquisition that was to come, he approached her at the desk.

"Hello, Miri. How have you been?"

"Don't you 'hello, Miri' me!" she said coolly, brandishing the scanner like a gun. Zell shielded his eyes. "You know perfectly well you've been avoiding me and I'm not pleased about it!"

"Sorry," he said half-heartedly, and he held out the two books to her. "I brought you these," he added sheepishly.

She pursed her lips, but took the books and checked them in. "That will be 240 gil for late fees," she said.

"I haven't got my wallet on me."

The line of her lips grew tighter. Zell could see in her expression that she was struggling with the dueling feelings of wanting to be cross with him and wanting to get her questions answered. "You've done your hair differently," he remarked next, going for a change of topic.

She reached up to touch her hair, which was styled in a thick braid that ran around her head, instead of her usual ponytail. "Yes, well. Abus said my ponytail was boring. So I decided to change it up a little."

"Is that the guy you're seeing?" Zell asked.

"_Was_," she answered with emphasis.

"Well, I think it looks lovely."

"Thank you," she replied, looking mollified by the compliment despite that she was clearly trying not to. "But don't think you're going to flatter your way out of trouble."

"I wasn't trying to," he said, which was mostly true. She didn't say anything further, and for a minute or two, Zell simply stood there watching her check in books. Eventually she looked up at him, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Well, are you going to tell me what happened, or what?" she asked fiercely.

"What happened?"

"You know!" she said, her voice low but intense. "In Deling City."

"Oh. Nothing happened."

"_Obviously_ something happened," she said, giving him the most skeptical look ever.

"Well, I mean... stuff happened," Zell replied with a shrug, trying to seem innocent, a feat he was usually quite good at. From the look on Miri's face, she was not buying it a bit. "Nothing particularly worth mentioning."

"You are lying so bad," she said, but a small grin had appeared on her face. "Did he... you know... find out?"

Zell didn't answer. He gave her the blankest look he could manage, but her expression was quickly growing from curiosity to suspicion. She looked around discreetly, as though scanning the area for eavesdroppers, and when she was satisfied that they were alone, she waved Zell to join her behind the counter. He slipped around to the back, and they both crouched down on the floor, out of sight. Miri took a folded card sign from a shelf that read "out for break, back in 10 minutes" and set it on the counter above them.

"Zell, what happened?" she asked him again, her tone low and conspiratorial. She was smiling, which was a bad sign; it meant she was on to something. "Did he find out about your... your thing?"

Zell almost laughed. His _thing_. Yeah, Seifer had found out about _all_ his things - and Zell had found out a few things of his own, hadn't he? He was trying to figure out if there was a way to word it without making Miri all red and giggly when he realized it was too late; his lack of an immediate answer had told her all she needed to know.

"He _did_ find out..." she whispered, sounding wondering. "But how? I mean, you didn't tell him? No, he's smart, he probably just figured it out," she went on, talking mostly to herself. Zell gave a noncommittal kind of half-nod, not wanting to either confirm or deny her conclusions. "Well, so then what? How did he react? I mean, was he horrible about it?"

"Erm," Zell said, thinking earnestly. He wouldn't say Seifer was horrible - not in the sense that she meant, anyway. "I guess he was... okay? Not worse than normal, I mean."

"Really? He wasn't, like, disgusted or anything?" she said in a surprised tone. Then she looked even more surprised, as though she had just made a shocking realization. "Or..." she began, trailing off.

Zell still didn't say anything. She was putting it together in her head; he could see it. And there was nothing he could do to stop her. "Or, Zell," she tried again, giving him a piercing look with wide eyes, "did something... did _something_ happen?"

"Well, when you say 'something'..." he replied vaguely. Immediately he regretted it, because his reluctance to give her a solid no was enough to tell her that the answer was, in fact, a resounding yes.

She leapt on it. "You kissed," she said in a sharp tone, looking almost surprised at her own words. Her grin grew wider, giving her an almost mad look.

"Miri..."

"Oh my god, you did more than kiss," she breathed, staring at him. Her eyes were perfectly round and her jaw dropped slowly lower and lower until she was gawping at him as she processed all this in her head. He didn't deny it, which was confirmation enough for her. "Oh god. Oh shit, oh god, oh shit," she muttered, her voice rising in pitch.

"Calm down, for fuck's sake," Zell hissed at her, hoping very much that she wasn't about to get hysterical. She had that expression on her face as if the conversation was going a whole lot faster than her brain was.

"Oh my god. You guys... you guys... you guys..." she stammered, unable to get the words out. Zell was more glad than not that she couldn't. What she was trying to say was one thing he absolutely didn't need anyone to overhear.

"Yeah, yeah. Settle down. I'll tell you all about it," he said, trying to placate her.

"Oh, god, Zell. I don't think I have the strength."

He wanted to laugh, but somehow didn't think that would go over well. After a few moments, Miri managed to calm herself, and she sat staring at him with her hand over her mouth, looking partly wondering and partly horrified - Zell wasn't sure if he ought to be offended or not.

"Oh my god," she said again quietly, shaking her head. "So what now? I mean... holy shit," she went on, giving a nervous sort of giggle.

"What now? What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on," Miri said sharply. "You know. What's going to happen now? Are you guys, like, seeing each other? Are you in love, or...? Oh, god, what if someone finds out? How are you going to keep it a secret? I mean, how often, really-"

"Miri, please, stop," Zell cut her off, stopping the flood of questions pouring from her - all questions he couldn't have answered for her if he wanted to. What was going to happen now between he and Seifer? Fuck if he knew. He'd been thinking himself in circles all week and hadn't come up with any solid answers. He was going to have to lie. "It's not like that... at all."

Her eyebrows went up in a display of curiosity, but she said nothing. Zell sighed, running his hands through his hair as he tried to put together something legitimate-sounding in his head. "Look, it just... happened. Just once. It was on toward the end of the trip and we were both pretty drunk one night, and it... you know, happened. That's all."

"What, that's all?" she said skeptically. "After all that? I mean, after what you told me last time-"

"I know what I said before, but it's... it's not really like that," he said, somewhat lamely, remembering with some regret the huge deal he'd made out of his extremely unwelcome (at the time) attraction to Seifer. Luckily, he had a tailor-made excuse on hand that was perfect for exactly this situation. "Like... once I had accepted the, you know, attraction, it was easy to ignore. Seifer's personality was definitely more than enough to make me reconsider any... y'know... thoughts that might have crossed my mind."

Miri stared at him, and he held her gaze, wondering if she would buy it. She was a girl, after all, and worse, a psychology student, who would be liable to want to dissect everything he said until she had every detail down pat. However, she was also, interestingly enough, a romantic; he could sell her any story as long as he was properly vulnerable and heartfelt while he did it. The trick was finding the balance between the two - fabricating a story that was equal parts embarrassed honesty and reasonable-sounding bullshit. And lying wasn't exactly Zell's strong point, either.

"I don't believe it," she breathed, but to Zell's relief, she didn't look like she meant it. "I mean, you didn't even, like, want to jump him or anything? All that time?"

"No," Zell said. "Well, maybe a little. But like I said, I could just ignore it. We were fighting so bad most of the time that I really wasn't thinking about... other stuff."

That was a brazen lie; he had, in fact, been thinking about _stuff_ during most of those four weeks, if not predominantly, than at least at the back of his mind. And Seifer was nearly impossible to ignore on any level. The attraction between them was like magnetism - hard to fight, stupid to even try. "I think by the end of the month we were both so fed up with each other that it all just came to a head, and... well, you know what happened," he went on, shrugging. "And then it was over in the morning. We talked and stuff and agreed that we weren't going to make a big deal out of it."

"Wait, wait, wait," Miri interrupted him, and for a second he was afraid she was going to call him out on that last whopper of a lie, but all she said was, "does that mean you guys are through?"

"We're not going to be sleeping together, if that's what you're asking," he answered.

She went very red at this blunt remark, and - to Zell's surprise - looked somewhat disappointed. "Why, what were you expecting?" he added.

"I don't know. Maybe..." she trailed off with a shrug, and didn't elaborate. "I guess I was thinking it might be... nice... if you two got together..." she went on a moment later, looking away from him in embarrassment.

"I think 'nice' is the last word I'd use to describe it," Zell said. "It'd probably be horrible."

Miri nodded, but she had a dreamy look on her face that Zell wasn't used to seeing. She was just as bad as Quistis, honestly; she had gotten herself caught up in some kind of romantic fantasy scenario. All the more reason for him to bend the truth for her.

"It couldn't have _all_ been horrible, though, was it?" she asked next, her cheeks still glowing pink.

"I'd say it was about 99% horrible," was Zell's answer. She frowned, and gave him a frosty look as though he had deliberately missed the point.

"But what about... yanno... the sex?" she whispered.

"Oh, Miri, please..."

"I'm not looking for a play-by-play or anything," she was quick to assure him, fanning herself a little with her hand. "Just a yes or no answer is fine."

"Yes or no? What are you asking?" he said.

"Was it good?" she asked, lowering her voice even more, until he could hardly hear the question. When he didn't give her an immediate reply, she went on, "It must have been. I mean, _Seifer_, you know?"

Yeah, Zell knew all right. "Why does it have to be Seifer? I'll have you know I'm pretty good, too."

"Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to tell me," Miri replied with a smile. She put her hand over her mouth, looking baffled and overwhelmed. "Wow," she said after a while, and they sat together in silence for a few minutes, until she managed to get her thoughts straight. "So, was it," she began eventually, still looking dazed, "was it, like, the best sex of your life? I won't be offended if you say yes."

"To be completely honest... it doesn't really compare to any sex I've had," Zell had to admit, which was entirely true; it had been a whole new experience on a number of levels, sleeping with Seifer. And, yes, it had definitely been the best sex of his life (so far,) but he wasn't going to come right out and tell Miri that, particularly when he was supposed to be convincing her that it was never going to happen again. That wasn't technically a lie, he reasoned, because of course there was a chance that it _wouldn't_ ever happen again - but certainly not if he had anything to do with it.

Miri sat for another minute taking that last statement in, and Zell let her mull it over for a while. "W... wow," she repeated, giving a sigh. "So even after all that, like, you're not going to see each other again? It's just, you know, it seems like a waste," she added sheepishly.

"I wouldn't say that. I mean, there's a load of reasons why it would never work," Zell replied. "For one, we can't stand each other. And it'd be dangerous. But to tell you the truth, I'm pretty much over it," he said, shrugging casually. "I think the one night was enough. Now that we've done it, it's over, that's all."

Miri made a face at him, and he suspected she wasn't entirely buying this, but she didn't call him on it. "That's just... a shame," she said, shaking her head. "I mean it's not like I like Seifer or anything... but... I don't know..."

"What?" Zell prompted when she trailed off. She gave him a hesitant look, as though unsure of whether or not to tell him what was really on her mind. "Go on, say whatever you're gonna say," he added.

"It sounds ridiculous," she began, her expression reluctant and embarrassed. "I guess I had half-convinced myself that you two were... I dunno, might be good for each other. Some part of my brain wanted to think that you guys actually might be a perfect match."

"You read too many romance novels," Zell said, and to his relief, Miri began to laugh. The suddenly panicked beating of his heart slowed a little - thankfully she found the idea more ridiculous than not, because Zell personally thought that one had hit a little too close to home. He had found himself thinking the same thing more often than he liked recently. He couldn't resist, however, and asked, "Um, just out of curiosity... why would you think that?"

Miri gave him a long, studying look. "What, now you wanna listen to my psychobabble?" she said teasingly, raising an arch eyebrow. "I thought you weren't into psychology."

"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine," he replied, which was guaranteed to make her want to tell him.

"It's stupid. I was just thinking that..." She paused, sighed, and then went on, "well, I was thinking about how neither one of you really knows what he's looking for. You're not actively seeking a relationship; in fact, you never do. So I thought, well, maybe it's because you two already have an excellent relationship-"

"Miri, who are you kidding? Our relationship is fucking awful," Zell interrupted. Miri shook her head.

"Yeah, you think so, but it's not from my point of view. Just because you don't get along doesn't mean your relationship is bad. In fact, you and Seifer are always completely up-front and honest with each other, and you have no qualms about saying what's on your mind or working things out the hard way. The only thing your relationship was lacking was sex, and since you tried that and neither of you found it exactly, well, disagreeable, I thought that maybe..." she trailed off again, looking thoughtful. Then she shook her head again, her expression half-disappointed. "Well, the whole idea was silly; I guess I let my fancy run away with me. But you have to admit, it could have been amazing."

_And it's definitely going to be,_ Zell thought to himself, trying not to grin. If he'd been having some doubts over the past few days, he was past them now. Miri had just perfectly summed up what he enjoyed about his relationship with Seifer - the more he thought about it, the more he was pretty sure that Seifer, despite his litany of flaws, was an excellent match for him, once they got past the head games and started being up-front with each other. The mind-blowing sex didn't hurt his case, either.

He couldn't exactly admit that to Miri, however. "Ah, well," he said, giving her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, "it's okay. You can't get it right every time."

* * *

Zell could hear the racket from Selphie's party all the way down the corridor. She had commandeered the ballroom for the event, and Squall, clearly aware that any resistance shown to her would be futile, had let her. The whole quad was decked out in streamers and balloons, and there was a strange glimmering quality to the light that was coming from the ballroom that made Zell suspect she had found a disco ball somewhere. That didn't bode well for anyone's dignity.

He was halfway down the corridor when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm and pulled sideways into a small alcove behind a door; he spun around and very nearly took his assailant's head off before realizing who it was. "Seifer?" he said, lowering his fist.

"Hello," Seifer replied, grinning in the dark.

"Man, what the hell are you doing?" Zell asked, smiling a little as well despite himself. The other man looked as if he was in a good mood - everything from his stance to his expression declared it so - and Zell wasn't going to go and ruin that by pretending to be angry. In fact, he wasn't at all angry - was quite glad to see Seifer, even if the circumstances of this particular rendezvous weren't ideal (why couldn't Seifer just ring him? Sheesh.) But getting pulled into darkened nooks by the gunblader was sort of par for the course by now, wasn't it?

"Thought we could have a chat," Seifer said in response to the question.

"You know, I was about to clock you a good one," Zell said.

"I know."

"Hope it's worth it."

"It always is," Seifer said, leaning in a little bit. His voice, so low it was practically a purr, hit Zell right in his weak flank, and he was suddenly urgently aware of how very much he was craving Seifer - everything; the sound of his voice, the hard press of his body, his lips. Avoiding Seifer for a week had given Zell ample time to run his mind in circles, vacillating endlessly on what he thought he wanted; and now, something as simple as just being near Seifer was enough to clear his doubts on every level. What he had told Miri earlier couldn't have been further from the truth. He was beginning to doubt whether a whole lifetime would be enough to cure him of the lust he was feeling for Seifer.

"Seriously, though, what are you doing here?" Zell tried again, attempting to ignore the fact that Seifer was leaning a bit closer still. He didn't back away - he was through with letting Seifer back him into walls, for one, but he also had no desire to have any space between them - he'd rather it was quite the opposite, in fact. Seifer didn't fail to notice this, and smirked.

"Selphie invited me to her party, I'll have you know," he said coolly.

"Maybe, but I guarantee she didn't do so with the intention that you'd actually show up," Zell replied, giving a little smirk of his own. Seifer shrugged.

"Touché," Seifer said. "Don't worry, I'm not going to crash Selphie's party. Actually, I'm glad I didn't have to go in there to find you. But we do need to talk, and I was getting sick of waiting for you," he explained casually.

This surprised Zell a little - that Seifer would admit that, for one - but he tried not to show it. "Is that so?" was all he said in response, aiming for nonchalance. Seifer, as usual, saw right through it.

"You know it is," he murmured. "Don't play that coy shit with me."

"Don't," Zell said warningly, unconsciously taking a step back as Seifer moved forward, reaching for him.

"Zell-"

"People around," Zell said, shaking his head.

"They're all inside the party," Seifer replied.

"I know that. But if you touch me right now, then I'm probably gonna have to fuck you right here in this corner, and it's a good bet people would hear," Zell said coolly, which was nothing less than the truth. Seifer's smile, which had never for a moment faltered, grew wider.

"Fair enough," he said, backing away.

"So we need to talk. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, I think you've already answered one of my questions," Seifer remarked, quirking one eyebrow in an amused expression. "And very eloquently, I might say."

"That's me, mister eloquence," Zell muttered. At that, Seifer laughed, and Zell had a sudden unbearable urge to taste that mouth again - to kiss him hard, to memorize the fit of Seifer's lips against his, to fight him for control, and to eventually, happily, relinquish it. His knees felt weak with how much he wanted it. He briefly entertained the thought of blowing off Selphie's party and dragging Seifer back home with him right this moment - no, bad idea. Selphie would hunt him down - literally, with weapons - if he skipped out on her tonight. He wasn't thinking straight.

Seifer leaned back against the wall, putting his hands in his pockets. "Look," he said after a minute, his smile still present but his demeanor, on the whole, more serious than before. "It occurs to me that neither of us were very clear about things that last night in Deling City-"

"I thought I was very clear, actually," Zell interrupted, and Seifer started. "I like you. For some reason that I can't fathom... but I do. I said as much."

"Alright, fine," Seifer said, "_I_ wasn't very clear, then. It's... not something I'm good at," he added, looking irritated at the fact that he even had to admit it.

"Yeah, I'm aware," Zell said. Seifer gave him a cool look.

"Okay, well. I guess what I'm asking is..." He paused, frowning. Zell waited, acting much more patient than he was feeling at the moment. He knew Seifer was bad at this sort of thing - or any sort of thing that involved honest communication, really - and it was somewhat endearing to watch him struggle through it. "Well, what I mean is, do you want to do this thing or not? Because I do."

"'Do this thing'?" Zell repeated, and he couldn't stop himself from laughing. Seifer looked startled. "Do I want to 'do this thing'? You make it sound like some lame fitness motivational poster."

Seifer gave him a very long, flat look, and Zell was afraid for a moment that he'd pissed the other man off. He probably shouldn't have made fun of him when, really, Seifer was just trying in his own way to do things properly. But boy was he bad at it. A few seconds later, however, Seifer was grinning again.

"Do you always get so uptight when you're horny?" he asked snarkily.

"Yeah, obviously. Where have you been the whole last month?" Zell retorted, matching Seifer's smirk with his own. The gunblader looked pleasantly surprised by his sass, and he stepped forward again, bringing himself closer to Zell.

"So. Uh... a relationship?" he said, sort of a question. Zell pretended to think about it for a couple of seconds.

"Fucking?"

"I hope so," Seifer said. Then he pulled a wry face. "Dating?"

"Hmm," Zell replied, grimacing a little. "Probably not a good idea. Risky."

"Friends?"

"Only in private," Zell said, smiling as he leaned up toward the other man. "We're still going to have to pretend to hate each other in public, you know. At least for now."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Seifer said, and he was nearly on top of Zell now, who suddenly realized that the wall was at his back - so much for not letting Seifer corner him anymore. Not that he minded, not at all, not with Seifer so close to him - definitely not when he could feel the heat from the other man's body, and smell the cigarettes he'd been smoking, and under that, the scent of his cologne, a woodsy, earthy scent. He didn't wear cologne often - or at least, he hadn't worn it often when they were abroad - and Zell had been eternally grateful for that, because it made him want to run his tongue over every inch of Seifer's skin. Although, now that things were all out in the open, he didn't see any downsides to that idea.

"Also, quit hitting me," Seifer went on, his tone teasing.

Zell pretended to consider it. "You drive a hard bargain," he said.

"At least in bed, huh?"

"I'll try, but I've got fifteen years' instinct working against me, you know," Zell said playfully.

"Are you going to hit me if I try and kiss you right now?"

"God, I should," Zell groaned, but instead of doing any such thing, he grabbed Seifer by the front of his coat and yanked him down into a kiss. Seifer met him eagerly, slipping his arm around Zell's back and pulling their bodies flush together. This only went on for a minute or two - or, who knew, five, or thirty? Zell didn't care, he just knew it was too short - before they both pulled back. "This is a bad idea," Zell said.

"I feel like I should agree with you, but I don't want to," was Seifer's reply.

"No, really, quit it," Zell said again, dodging the other man as he advanced again. "I hear somebody coming."

"You do not."

"This kind of shit is why I keep wanting to hit you, Seifer," Zell murmured, and in response, the other man gave him a highly skeptical look.

"You're kidding, right?" Seifer said, leaning back. "I should be saying that to you, with all the fucking runaround you're giving me-"

"_God_, you're so bloody stupid," Zell groaned, grabbing Seifer by the neck again and yanking him forward into another kiss. This was starting to get irritating. "Is it deliberate?" he asked after another moment or two, when they parted. "I mean, it's like you're _trying_ to misunderstand me. I can't tell if it's on purpose, or if you're just actually incapable of listening to me-"

"Sorry," Seifer interrupted him to say, which surprised Zell; he usually had to work a lot harder to get an apology out of the other man. "Old habits, I guess. Don't tell me you're not struggling with this. The idea that you and I are ever going to get on any better than this, it's..."

"Ludicrous," Zell supplied when the other man trailed off. Seifer just smiled.

"Exactly."

"And yet... here we are," Zell went on, smiling himself. "Makes you wonder what's wrong with us."

"I know precisely what's wrong with me. I'm crazy about you, and it's doing horrible things to my reason," Seifer said quite coolly. "Like convincing me it's absurd to continue standing here talking about this when we could be somewhere else doing... something else."

Zell wanted to come back with an appropriately flip response to that, but his brain had caught on the phrase "crazy about you" and couldn't yank free. Seifer continued to grin.

"Speechless?"

"Little bit, yeah," Zell said.

"Good," Seifer replied, "that's just how I like you."

He crossed the space between them in a step, but Zell managed to unstick his tongue before Seifer could render him any more inarticulate than he had - which would be a feat, indeed. "Crazy about me, you say?" he said wonderingly.

"Well," Seifer said after thinking for a moment, and - to Zell's great pleasure - he looked vaguely uncomfortable, as though regretting that he'd even said it in the first place. "I wouldn't call what we're doing sane by any stretch of the imagination, would you?"

"For someone who's bad at being honest, you sure can be _brutally_ honest," Zell remarked.

"There's no pleasing you, is there?"

"Now that's not true, and you know it very well," he said in response, his voice all but a purr. Seifer's expression was nothing short of predatory as he leaned down close. "Don't," Zell said sharply, ducking back. "Someone could come."

"Let's go back," Seifer suggested.

"I can't," Zell said, with some real regret. "I have a party."

"Skip it."

"I can't."

"One party? You can't skip one party?"

"Selphie's expecting me," Zell explained. "I can't bail on her. She'll hurt me. Literally."

"What's the worst she could do?" Seifer scoffed.

Zell gave him a long, skeptical look. "You're obviously not very well acquainted with Selphie."

"No, I try not to be. It takes some effort. I'm quite proud of it," Seifer replied bitingly. Zell sighed, and pushed the other man back.

"Yeah, I'm sure she appreciates it as well. Look, why don't you just go back and-" Zell began, but he stopped abruptly. The reason for this was because Seifer had suddenly vanished - Zell blinked once, twice, and frowned, feeling confused, but he didn't have more than a moment to wonder about it before another face appeared in front of him to take Seifer's place.

"How's that feel, Mr. 'I'm too good to be friends with anyone' Almasy?"

"Selphie, what the?" Zell stuttered, jumping back from the girl who had just popped up between he and Seifer, who, upon inspection, was now laying on the floor very much unconscious. Selphie grinned, twirling her nunchaku and striking a victory pose.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up!" she chirped, giving Zell a mock-pouty look that was only more unnerving for the fact that she had just knocked out a man twice her size from behind in complete silence. Zell stumbled out of the alcove behind the door, carefully stepping around Seifer's body, and she followed him, bouncing on her heels.

"What are you doing? You can't go around hitting Seifer!" he said, with perhaps a little more vehemence than he meant. Selphie frowned up at him, still twirling her weapon deftly around her hand back and forth.

"Oh, don't worry, he can take it. Anyway, what were you doing out here with him? He's not coming to my party, is he?" she said worriedly.

"You knocked him out," Zell said.

"Yeah, well," she said, shrugging, "it looked like he was bothering you."

"He was, but-" _But I wanted him to,_ Zell thought privately, but he could hardly say that. "But I can handle Seifer. Now he's gonna think I need a _girl_ to stand up for me."

"No one who knows you would think that," Selphie replied, scoffing. Zell tried not to show his relief that she seemed to buy it. Suspicion wasn't in Selphie's nature - thank god it had been her and not Quistis who found him. "Are you coming inside or what? We have been _waiting_ for you. Nobody's seen you in, like, _ages_."

"What about..." Zell paused, turning to glance back at Seifer, who was laying prostrate on the floor in the corner. "What about Seifer?"

"What about him?"

"Selphie," he said sternly. He was probably sticking up for Seifer more than was natural, but if Selphie had her way, she'd likely leave the gunblader there for Garden Faculty to find in the morning and not think twice about it. She pouted again.

"Oh, just leave him. He'll wake up eventually. I didn't hit him _that_ hard."

She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door, but he shook her off. "You go ahead," he said, trying to look both nonchalant and irritated that he even had to deal with this. "I'm just going to make sure he's alright."

"Well, he's probably going to be out for a while. I've got sleep junctioned," she cooed, but Zell waved her off, and without further argument, she retreated into the party. Zell waited until the door was firmly shut behind her before he approached Seifer, checking twice to make sure the hallway was deserted. Although, when he thought twice about it, maybe he'd have been better off going inside with Selphie - the very last thing he needed was for Quistis to hear about this, not when Zell hadn't yet had a chance to have a talk with her about what had happened before he'd left for Galbadia. There was a conversation he was dreading almost as much as he had the one with Miri. Well, he'd have to take his chances; but still, he prayed that Selphie didn't happen to mention the fact that she had come upon him rather intimately secluded in a corner with Seifer. He didn't have any explanation for that.

At least Selphie had good timing; another thirty seconds squeezed into that little nook with the other man and they'd probably have been tearing at each other's clothes. He knelt down beside Seifer, gingerly touching the lump that was already forming on the back of his head. Selphie hadn't held back - not surprising, despite her insistent claims that she didn't hold a grudge - Seifer was going to have a wicked headache, if nothing else. Maybe it would be kinder to let him sleep, but Zell didn't know what he'd do with him in the meantime. He rolled Seifer onto his back, and shook him gently by the shoulder.

"Seifer," he said, shaking him harder when his first efforts proved unsuccessful. "Seifer, wake up. Hey."

There was no response. Zell sighed. "Hey, wake up," he said, slapping the other man across the face.

"Stop it," Seifer grumbled, blinking awake. He shoved Zell's hand away. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you're awake," Zell said dully.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Selphie clocked you a good one on the back of the head," Zell answered. Seifer pushed himself into a sitting position, reaching a hand up toward his head. "I wouldn't touch it," Zell warned him, "It's pretty ugly."

Seifer made a pained noise, sitting back against the wall. "That girl," he said, scowling. "And you're wondering why I don't go out of my way to be friends with her?"

"Give her some credit. You were practically molesting me against the wall," Zell replied, smiling a little. Seifer didn't seem amused.

"I won't make the mistake of doing that again."

"Too bad," Zell said, which at least eked a half-smile out of the other man. They sat in silence for a few moments more, Seifer clutching his head and making quiet hurt noises as he tried to gather his wits.

"Don't you have a party to get to?"

"You gonna be alright if I go?" Zell asked mildly. Of course Seifer didn't need him there to take care of him or anything, Zell knew that quite well; but he was anxious to not have their encounter end on a bad note after all the breakthroughs they'd made already tonight. Seifer just gave him a mean look and waved him away. "Do you want me to kiss it better?"

"I will break any part of you that touches me."

Zell tried not to snicker. "There's the old bad-tempered Seifer I'm used to," he said teasingly. "So can I come by later?"

This caught Seifer's attention, and he looked up, still massaging his temple with one hand. "You can come by now," he countered, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"You've got a headache."

"I'll take something," he said dismissively.

Zell just grinned, leaning in a little bit. "I'll come by later. After the party's over."

"How long?" Seifer asked. Zell thought.

"Two hours."

"I'm not waiting up all night for you."

"Oh, you'll be up all night," Zell said, pushing himself to his feet and smiling down at Seifer, who, despite the pain, was looking nothing less than smug now. "One way or another."

"Is that a promise?"

"More of a threat," Zell said, and the last thing he saw before he slipped through the door into the ballroom was the grin on Seifer's face. Not that Zell could help grinning himself. Things were looking better than they had all week, hell, all month. Of course, he still had to get through Selphie's party unscathed...


	23. Chapter 22

It was over an hour into the party before Quistis managed to get Zell alone, and Zell was surprised it even took that long; she had been giving him the eye ever since he walked in, clearly eager to have him to herself for a few moments. It wasn't like he could avoid her forever, after all - and if he did it for much longer, she was likely to start getting suspicious. So he purposely wandered over to the bar by himself while Selphie and Nida were telling an animated story about a recent snowboarding escapade, and had the attention of the rest of the group. Sure enough, Quistis peeled away from the others to follow him, and joined him at the bar a couple moments later.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he said jokingly, sorting through the lineup of bottles on the counter. "What are you having?"

"Vodka tonic would be lovely," she replied, passing over her glass. Zell went behind the bar and played bartender, waiting for her to talk. However, she just watched him in silence until he was finished with both their drinks, and then she sipped hers with a thoughtful expression.

Alright, so she wasn't going to ask. Maybe she wasn't drunk enough yet. Zell would have to get the ball rolling.

"I love your hair, by the way," he started, stirring his drink with a straw. "It's a good look on you."

"Oh, thank you," she said bashfully, reaching up to play with the ends of her hair with an air of self-consciousness. She had caused quite a commotion when she arrived to the party with a brand new look - a sassy little chin-length bob with a heavy fringe, which actually suited her face surprisingly well. It was a far cry from the same long, straight, and (in Zell's opinion, not that he had a lot of opinions on women's hair, generally,) pretty blah hairstyle she'd been sticking with for the past few years.

"Why, all of a sudden?" Zell asked.

"I suppose I was feeling like a change," she admitted, and then shrugged. She was acting like it was no big deal, and maybe it wasn't, but as far as Zell knew, a woman cutting off all of her hair was a pretty big deal. He could be wrong on that; Quistis sure didn't seem any different than usual. In fact, she was more than usually cheerful tonight.

"Well, I like it," he said, giving her a smile.

"Thanks," she said again. She sipped at her drink, and then said, "your hair's almost as long as mine, now. Are you growing it out?"

"Not at all," he replied, making a face, and Quistis chuckled. "I need to get a trim. I meant to do it before leaving for Galbadia, but I just ran out of time."

She nodded, but didn't say anything. Zell leaned on the counter, sweeping his hair - which _was_ really getting too long for his liking - out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ear. He'd just given her a perfect in to the topic he knew she was dying to bring up. He only had to wait a couple of moments before she jumped right in. "So," she said, looking down into her drink, "I read the mission report from your last mission."

"Yeah, a real page-turner, wasn't it?" he joked.

Quistis grinned, and rolled her eyes. "All things considered, I think you and Seifer did an admirable job of doing what you were sent there to do. Especially you, for dealing with him."

"That's what I said, but Squall didn't seem to agree with me."

"Yeah, him," Quistis scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "Honestly, I think he just can't get over the fact that Dallia Caraway got the better of him. He's been pissy about it the whole week; I've given up on talking him over," she said, glancing over her shoulder at the brunet, who was standing somewhat apart from the rest of the group, with an expression on his face that suggested he'd rather be in his office doing paperwork. "I wonder if he's reconsidering his relationship with Rinoa."

"The thought of a mother-in-law like that? I think I'd reconsider," Zell said, laughing. Quistis smirked, and turned back to face him.

"Whatever, he'll get over it," she said. "Anyway, can we talk about Seifer?"

Finally, she got to the point. "Do we have to?" Zell replied. "I think I've had enough of Seifer to last me just about a lifetime." _Oh, what a liar you are, Zell,_ he thought, trying not to grin.

"You did promise," Quistis said. "I mean, I've been thinking about it plenty while you guys were gone, and it's totally obvious in retrospect that he was jerking me around. But, you know, hindsight and all."

"I wouldn't be too hung up on it, if I were you," Zell said. "Seifer makes it a practice to fuck with people just for fun. He's all about mind games," he added. Then he did grin. "He did get a taste of his own medicine from Dallia. So maybe that's poetic justice."

"How on earth did you two get along for a month?"

"Mostly by each of us ignoring the fact that the other existed. It wasn't easy, I tell you."

Quistis took a drink, running one hand through her new short hair, as if unconsciously. "Squall was under the impression that you two did a lot of fighting," she said.

"When don't we?"

"Well, to be honest, up until about a month ago, I thought you two had grown out of it," Quistis admitted. She gave Zell a look that he couldn't quite make out - she was hinting at something, but what? Then she went on, "is that how you two manage to get on? By totally ignoring the other?"

"That's about how we've made it work for the past five years," Zell said. "That is, until Squall decided to literally stick us in a room together for four weeks. He can't possibly be surprised that the mission didn't go off without a few hitches."

"No, I don't think so. I guess maybe neither of us realized how bad things really were between you two," she remarked, sounding surprised at her own words. Zell didn't say anything, but wondered fretfully if he was overselling it. It _was_ true that he and Seifer had managed to not continue their childhood tradition of constant fighting and bickering mainly by staying out of each other's way ever since Seifer returned to Garden.

Now Zell was curious. He had never felt the slightest inclination toward Seifer - sexual or otherwise - until the bastard crawled into his bed, not even two months ago now. In such a short space of time, he had gone from completely hating Seifer to completely, well, _liking_ him - and if he hadn't been fighting against himself the entire way, it probably would have happened in half the time. He couldn't help but wonder if this was something that had been sleeping within him for years now, lurking quietly, just waiting for the right catalyst - just waiting to be shoved together with Seifer in a room for four weeks.

"I really should apologize," Quistis said, now looking away from Zell with a fairly embarrassed expression. "I was the one who suggested to pair you two up for that mission."

"I knew it!"

"I really did it with the best of intentions," she pleaded, which Zell had already suspected. He said nothing. He wasn't truly angry with her over it, even if he had been before. "At that point, you know, I was under the impression that..."

"Yeah, I know what impression you were under," Zell said coolly. Quistis looked honestly chagrined, so he let her off the hook with a smile. "What I can't fathom is how you let him talk you into such a thing. Any way you look at it, it's absurd."

"He's quite an actor," she mused, tilting her glass this way and that. "In my defense, how was I supposed to know? He wasn't like himself. It's not totally unfeasible that he might have been in love with you..."

"Quistis!"

"All I'm _saying_," she went on, gulping the last of her drink, "is that it's not like I could know that he _wasn't_, you know? I'm not exactly an expert on Seifer's attitudes, in love or otherwise. Anyway, he was very subtle about it. Anyone would have been taken in."

"Uh-huh," Zell said, taking her glass back from her. _Now_ she was getting drunk. Well, she had downed that last drink of hers pretty quickly, and Quistis had always been something of a lightweight in any case. He fixed her next glass a little bit lighter on the vodka.

"I recommended him for a promotion, you know," she remarked.  
"What? Why?"

"Well," she hummed, taking her drink back from him, "mainly to irritate Squall. But partly because I think he maybe deserves one. I've been thinking so for a while."

Zell didn't say anything, wondering where she was going with this. He hoped she wasn't going to ask his opinion on the matter, because there was no good way for him to provide it; being too supportive of Seifer would raise her suspicions, and being too hard on him would be unfair, because really, he _did_ deserve a lot better than Garden was giving him. Especially considering what he'd been through on this last mission of theirs, Seifer was worth a lot more than Garden was giving him credit for.

"So, if Squall happens to ask you, I hope you'll back me up," Quistis went on, finally getting to the point. "You can find something good to say, right? I mean, even you have to admit that he behaved a lot better than you were probably expecting on your trip."

"Well… that's debatable," Zell muttered vaguely, but he couldn't help a grin nevertheless. Seifer's behavior in Galbadia had met and exceeded all his expectations, in ways both good and bad. But overall, he could say that, yes, Seifer had performed exceptionally well, given circumstances. For one thing, he had come face-to-face with his own personal demons in the shape of a sorceress in pink kitten heels and _not_ completely flipped his shit. Five weeks before, Zell wouldn't have given Seifer's mental state the benefit of the doubt, but his opinion was different now.

"Did you give him hell?" she asked, smiling coyly.

Zell was thinking up an appropriately witty response to that when suddenly the lights went out. A moment or two later, they could see again - but only barely, by the flashing blue and purple illumination of a strobelight. Quistis groaned, thumping her glass on the countertop. "Looks like Selphie's ready to start dancing," Zell murmured, hiding a smile behind his drink.

"She's _ridiculous_. I don't know how in the world she talks Squall into letting her do this kind of shit," Quistis said in a defeated sort of tone. "If I were half as good at it as she is, my job would be so much easier."

"She's hooked up a disco ball," Zell observed. Some ways away, he could make out Selphie's profile against the pulsing lights, coaxing people to dance with her. She was plenty drunk already, if Zell had to guess. The crowd of people, which was small to begin with - only fifteen or so - thinned out a little as some of Selphie's guests managed to escape her, melting into the darker corners of the room.

"I think I'll just hide behind here with you," Quistis remarked, sidling round the bar towards the back. Someone came up just at that moment, however, and pulled her back by the arm.

"And just where do you think you're going, darlin'?" Irvine cooed, planting a kiss on the struggling blonde's cheek. "You can't escape the party princess, you know that. Your attempts are futile."

"Let me go," she grumbled, trying to dislodge him without putting her drink down, which Zell had to admit was fun to watch. "You won't convince me to dance, absolutely not. Not after last time."

"I wasn't going to," Irvine said, but he let her go. "I came over to borrow your bartender, if you can spare him for a moment or two? And what are you two doing over here all secretive-like, anyhow?"

"We're not being secretive. We're just talking," Quistis said.

"And getting into the hard liquor, by the look of you," Irvine said with a smirk.

"Well, someone's got to keep it away from _you_. We all remember your last birthday."

"Ladies, please?" Zell interrupted. Irvine gave him a cool look, but Quistis grinned, and then made her exit, clutching her drink closely. Irvine just shook his head and watched her go.

"She's sassy lately."

"Must be the hair," Zell said. "You wanted me for something?"

"If you've got a minute, can we have a chat?"

Zell pretended to think about it. "Wouldn't you rather be out there?" he asked, nodding toward the small crowd of people Selphie had gathered round her in the makeshift dance floor at the center of the room. Irvine looked over his shoulder at the scene, as Selphie argued with Rinoa over which CD to put in.

"I would, but Selphie ran me off," Irvine said somberly. He went down the line of bottles on the counter, and pulled one out.

"That's not like her."

"Well, you've hit upon the very thing," the redhead replied cryptically, pouring whiskey into a glass. "Let's move elsewhere," he added as the music began to play, at a volume that effectively eliminated the capacity for conversation. He hijacked as many bottles of liquor as he could fit under his free arm, and then led the way toward the far edge of the room, with Zell following.

"So," Irvine began as they managed to find a shadowy spot against the wall that wasn't already occupied by others trying to escape Selphie's dance party, "you guys talking about Seifer?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"You had that kinda pinched look on your face like you get whenever he's around," Irvine said. Zell pondered that for a moment, but didn't deign to reply. "Also, Selphie told me she ran into him in the hallway trying to crash her party."

"Yeah, they had an altercation," Zell replied, which made the other man smile.

"I'm sorry I missed it. I saw you guys on telly in Galbadia."

"You and the whole world, Irvine," Zell grumbled, taking a drink. The redhead laughed at him, leaning down to set his collection of liquor bottles on the floor by the wall. "Hey, since you brought it up," Zell added a few moments later, as the thought occurred to him, "what happened to Dallia Caraway after the whole kidnapping fiasco? I've been avoiding the news like plague since I got back so I didn't see any of the aftermath."

"After the ball, you mean?" Irvine contemplated for a short while, stirring his whiskey with his finger. "I only know what I heard. They made up some BS story about committees and voting or something to fob off the whole Estharian Garden idea, but it's obvious to anyone with half a brain that that was just a ruse in the first place. Dallia Caraway went quietly back to Esthar a few days after the ball and I haven't heard much about her since."

"I figured," Zell said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He would have been more surprised if the whole thing_didn't_ get very quietly rolled under the rug, but really, he'd be even more surprised if it _stayed_ under there. Dallia was a sorceress, and whether or not she was planning to admit to it like she had said, it would come out sooner or later. Zell just hoped he wasn't going to be anywhere nearby when it did. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"What's that?"

"You knew about Dallia being a sorceress, right? I mean, you knew for a while before we did," Zell said. Irvine smirked.

"I didn't know for sure until just now," was his answer, and before Zell had time to wonder if he'd just made a huge faux pas in spilling that little secret to Irvine, the other man went on, "don't worry, the secret's safe with me. If it _is_ a secret, which… well, we'll see."

"Okay, but how did you know?" The question had been nagging at Zell intermittently ever since he had learned the truth about Dallia, and realized that he had been right in thinking early on that his friend knew more than he was letting on. Irvine continued to smile.

"Like I said, I didn't. I suspected for a long time, though. Probably since I first met her."

"That's what I don't get," Zell said, taking another drink and hoping he didn't sound too accusatory; it really boggled him, however, that Irvine had very clearly seen what neither Seifer nor Zell had been able to. "Everybody liked her. Even you."

"That's true. She's a smart, funny woman. A really amazing woman, to be honest," Irvine said admiringly. Then he gave Zell a significant look, and added, "she had everybody charmed, including me. That's what made me think…"

"That she's amazing?" Zell asked, after Irvine failed to continue.

"She had everybody charmed," Irvine said slowly, "everybody… except Seifer."

"Well…" Zell was contemplative for a moment, as it started to dawn on him. "Okay, but… Seifer hates everyone."

"That's true, but it was way more than that. If she even went near him, he had this horribly repulsed look, like it was making him sick to have to stand by her. I bet he didn't even realize it, did he?"

"No," Zell admitted, remembering how stupid he had felt that they _hadn't_ seen Dallia for what she really was, when it should have been obvious. It wasn't Dallia he should have been watching; it was the people she touched. Seifer had hated her with a passion from their very first meeting, long before she began giving them reasons to dislike her. And she really brought out the worst in him, so much so that even Seifer didn't understand why he was acting the way he was. "Come to think of it, Matron wasn't too keen on her either," Zell said, sipping his drink. Irvine nodded in agreement.

"That's when it sort of clicked for me. I asked Rinoa, and she said the same thing," Irvine explained. "Something about Dallia made her uneasy, although I'm pretty sure she was pretending otherwise for her father's sake. But it was obviously more than a coincidence that the three of them all felt the same way, when everyone else loved Dallia."

"People who have been closest to sorceresses…" Zell mused. He went to take another drink, but the bottom of his glass was mainly ice now. He felt strangely morose, and it wasn't because he'd been drinking. He should have seen what was going on between Dallia and Seifer, probably would have seen it if he hadn't been so preoccupied with personal matters the whole time.

Irvine slapped him on the arm suddenly, jerking him out of his reverie. "Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," he said, as though he could tell what Zell had been thinking. "There's something else I wanna talk about."

"But, don't you think-"

"Nope," Irvine said. "Something else I wanna talk about."

"Okay, what?"

"I took your advice," the redhead declared proudly.

"About what?"

"About Selphie! You remember, last time we hung out," Irvine said, nudging Zell playfully with his shoulder. Zell still had to think for a moment before he knew what the other man was talking about.

"Oh, right," he said dully. The look Irvine was giving him said clearly that he was expecting more of a reaction, so Zell added, "and… how'd that go?"

"Not really sure yet, to be honest," Irvine said, frowning a little. His expression was starting to look a little moony, and Zell knew what that meant. He went for the liquor bottles on the floor as Irvine continued, "I think I'm making progress, but it's hard to say."

"She's avoiding you," Zell said, stating the obvious, as he poured himself another drink. If Irvine was going to talk about Selphie, he'd need another one to make it through the conversation.

"Yeah. We went on a date," was Irvine's reply. Zell stood up a little too quickly, spilling whiskey all over himself.

"You what?"

"We went on a date."

"_You_ and _Selphie_ went on a date?" Zell repeated.

"Yeah. I took her to Dollet. We had dinner and then we walked on the boardwalk until after dark."

"Did she know it was a date?" Zell had to ask. Irvine sighed a little.

"No, not until I told her. Actually, I think she was trying really hard for it to _not_ be a date," the other man said, sounding glum. "I gave her this whole speech about how she's more than just a friend to me and how I was afraid before but now I'm ready to take the next step, yada yada. It was actually really romantic, you know. We were on the beach and the stars were all out and stuff."

"What was her response?" Zell asked, although he was pretty sure he already knew.

"Didn't give me one," Irvine said, with a laugh that didn't in any way sound amused. "We went home and she pretended nothing happened. And has been avoiding me ever since."

"Nothing really happened? You didn't even get a kiss, or what…?"

"I thought she might slap me if I tried," Irvine admitted, throwing back the rest of his drink.

"Irvine, that sounds like the opposite of progress."

"You might think so," the other man said thoughtfully, and he smiled a little, "but the way I see it, I must have made her nervous. I mean, she's trying _so_ hard to avoid the issue, so she must be thinking about it. And that's progress, of a sort."

Zell couldn't help but laugh, which got him a dirty look from his friend. "That's a really optimistic way to look at it," he said, chuckling.

"Gotta have something to hang on to," Irvine declared. "Whatever. I've been patient, I can keep being patient."

"Don't take this the wrong way, Irv, but I think you're going to run out of patience before Selphie runs out of obstinance."

"We'll see," Irvine replied, jabbing Zell with his elbow in a playful way. "Anyway, I wanted to fill you in so that you can talk me up if she comes to you. You know how she is, she'll probably want everyone's opinion before she even starts to think about making a decision."

"What's with everyone wanting me to be their fucking megaphone tonight?" Zell said grouchily, but Irvine had stopped listening. He busied himself with the bottles of liquor for a moment, and then made his way back toward the group in the middle of the room, flashing Zell a salute on his way out. Zell watched him slip easily into the small crowd of people who were dancing, although he wasn't certain Selphie was among them. It was too dark to see very properly, but Zell thought he spied a head of feathered brown hair escaping in the other direction as Irvine approached. He didn't know whether to be irritated by the ridiculous juvenility of her antics, or just laugh.

Then again, Irvine's love life was an epic saga that Zell, Quistis, and Rinoa had been watching from the sidelines for years now; if things suddenly went easy for him, the whole situation would lose its entertainment value. Zell might dispense advice on occasion, and he was always ready at hand to listen to Irvine bellyache about his feelings, but when it came down to it, the cowboy needed to take charge of his own life. Watching the roller coaster that had been Irvine's private life over the past few years was fun, but it was more satisfying to Zell to see his friend finally doing something progressive.

_Must be something in the air,_ Zell thought, his mind wandering back to his burgeoning relationship with Seifer. After weeks of beating around the bush, they had made some real progress tonight - and Zell would give credit where credit was due, he wasn't stingy; if it weren't for Seifer coming to find him tonight, who knew how long their relationship might have stalled for? It wasn't as if he had planned to keep avoiding Seifer just to make a point - Zell wasn't that petty - but he had to be impressed by the other man having the initiative to seek him out when it was pretty clear that starting and maintaining an honest discourse was something Seifer was exceedingly bad at.

If Zell had been second-guessing his own sense in actually choosing to pursue a relationship with Seifer - and, to be entirely honest, he had been; because who in their right mind _would_ pursue that? - the conversation he'd just had with Irvine had gone a long way toward setting him straight again. Irvine and Selphie's childish refusal to move forward with their own stunted relationship might be fun to watch as a spectator, but Irvine's constant griping was proof enough that it sucked to experience. That kind of scenario was exactly what Zell was desperate to avoid.

The only way to do that, as far as he could see, was to be totally honest with Seifer in all things, and hope Seifer would do the same - and Zell had to admit, it was easier in reality than it had been in his head. Zell was honest by nature, and the only real hurdle had been the crushing denial, but he'd leapt that one pretty clear by inviting Seifer into bed with him. The gunblader was a different story; he tended to keep things close to heart, and on top of that he had a bad habit of using dishonesty as a defense mechanism, which was irritating, even if Zell could usually see through it anyway. Still, he had potential. He was the one who sought Zell out tonight; he had said his piece without having to be prodded (too much, at least,) and he had gone so far as to admit he sucked at honesty.

_I must be a good influence on him or something,_ Zell thought, which made him grin.

Midnight had come and gone before Zell decided it was probably safe to make his escape. Everybody was pretty drunk by that point - Zell was no exception; he'd been taking it easy the whole night, but there was only so much he could do when all of his friends were determined to pour liquor down his throat - and Quistis had been coerced into dancing with Irvine, which was a clear sign that the level of drunken insanity was about to skyrocket. That was Zell's cue to exit, and he took the first opportunity while the others were preoccupied debating the pros and cons of a game of "never have I ever" to abandon his drink and make his way stealthily toward the nearest door. He didn't quite make it, however.

"You hold it right there," Selphie said sharply, materializing out of nowhere and snatching him by the back of his shirt as he was trying to ease the side door out of the ballroom open without catching anyone's attention. "I've got a bone to pick with you, Dincht."

"Oh, what's that?" he said innocently, as though she weren't giving him a look just then that implied she'd like to break some of his bones. His pasted-on cheerful smile was doing nothing to melt the frosty expression on her face.

"Are you trying to sneak away?"

"Just… wanted to get some fresh air," Zell said lamely.

"Fresh air?" She pierced him with a skeptical gaze, as if fresh air was a highly suspicious thing to want. "You're not going anywhere, buddy. I want to know what you and Irvine were talking about before."

"Why?"

"What's he telling people?" she said in a low tone, leaning close to Zell unsteadily. She was definitely drunk. "We're not a couple, you know. Is he spreading stories about me?"

Zell felt a twinge of annoyance that had nothing to do with the fact that she wouldn't let him leave. Sure, she was clearly drunker than a skunk, but that didn't account for the harshness in her tone at that last remark. Selphie wasn't an angry drunk - wasn't angry at all, really. He grabbed her hand and pried her fingers loose from his shirt, although he continued to hold onto her arm, on the off chance that she might fall flat on her face if he didn't. "Give him some credit," Zell said coolly. "He was telling me about your date, that's all."

"It _wasn't_ a date!" Selphie hissed.

"Well, Irvine thought it was. Maybe your communication needs work," was Zell's reply.

"I know you're the one who egged him on to do it," she went on, now sounding accusatory. "I'd appreciate if you didn't go giving him stupid advice like that, you know-"

"I didn't egg him on," Zell interrupted, starting to feel a little irritated at her allegations. "You're not an idiot, Selph, so quit acting it. You know he's been stupid in love with you for, like, ever. I was sick of watching him be miserable about it, so, yeah, I told him to man up. I wish _you_ would."

Selphie stared at him in shock after this short speech. Zell himself was a little startled at his own curtness, but, well, maybe she deserved a good cold slap of reality - she was clearly in heavy denial about her own personal matters. Zell was feeling short-tempered; he was more than a little tipsy, and it had been a very long week… not to mention he was already late for a date with Seifer, and he wasn't going to be held up any longer by getting further involved in Selphie and Irvine's affairs. And why did everyone seem to think he _wanted_ to be involved in their business, anyway?

To his horror, tears began to well up in the brunette's eyes. God, she was _really_ drunk. "Zell, that was mean," she said huffily, slapping him on the shoulder with her other hand. This motion made her wobble, and Zell had to grab her with both hands to keep her standing.

"I'm not trying to be mean. But I wonder if _you_ are," he answered, giving her a pointed look that she almost certainly didn't catch; her eyes were unfocused as she stared in the direction of Zell's face. "You guys have been dancing around each other for years, don't you think it's time you moved forward?"

"I don't want to move in _any_ direction," she whined, her whole face scrunched up into a frown. "I want things to be exactly the same way they've always been forever. Is that too much to ask?"

"Selphie," Zell said, sighing deeply. He took a quick glance around to make sure they weren't being watched, and then he maneuvered Selphie toward the door, shoving her less-than-gently into the corridor. She sat down against the wall, making quiet, depressed noises to herself. Zell crouched next to her.

"If that's the way you want it, you'd better make it crystal clear to Irvine," he said after a minute or two of quiet, giving Selphie some time to gather her wits. He really hoped she'd remember this conversation in the morning, or he was wasting his time giving her advice. Still, it wasn't like he could just leave her there. "If you're really not interested, I'm sure he'll back off. But personally, I think you're just scared and stubborn. You should give him a chance."

If Selphie had been anywhere near sober, she probably would have whacked him a good one upside the head, but in her present state all she did was give a long, morose sigh. "Zell, you really don't know anything," she said eventually, with a little chortle as though the very notion of Zell giving her advice on this subject was ridiculous. What little was left of Zell's patience with her vanished.

"Well, if that's all," he said brusquely, standing up to leave. Selphie lurched forward, grabbing the leg of his jeans - and she might have been tanked, but she was still as deceptively strong as when she was sober.

"Wait, you're leaving?"

"You don't seem to want my advice, so why should I stay?"

"You can't go yet! The party's just started!" she declared. Zell laughed at that.

"Sorry, I've got somewhere to be," he said, trying to shake her free. She let go of his jeans, but the look she was giving him now was that of total bewilderment.

"Somewhere? Where could you possibly have to be at this hour?"

"Maybe you should just sit here for a while, until you feel better," Zell suggested, watching with a faint sense of pity as Selphie tried to get to her feet. If he ran, she probably wouldn't be able to follow him, but that might be a bit too cruel of him. He put a hand on her shoulder, and pushed her back onto the floor gently. "Selph, just sit here and clear your head for a bit. Think about what I said. It'll probably sound better once you've sobered up."

She grabbed his arm before he could stand up and walk away. "Oh, you're not getting off that easy," she said with a low chuckle. "What's so important you're ditching my reunion party for? I'm going to tell everyone you flaked out, you know."

"I've got a date," he said shortly, which evidently surprised her enough that she released her grip on him. Zell took advantage of the opportunity and walked away, giving her a jaunty wave as she stared at him, slack-jawed. "See you later, hope you feel better!"

She called after him, but it was too late; he was around the corner and walking fast away from the party. He didn't bother to regret having said it; even if Selphie did tell anyone - and even if they weren't too drunk to remember it tomorrow - it's not like it would cause him any grief. Every other week he was rumored to be seeing someone or other; it would just be another rumor to add to the pile. And the next week, Garden would come up with something new to chew on, and forget all about Zell's petty affairs.

Briefly, he wondered if he should just head home. It would be a dick move after promising Seifer he'd come by, but he was still drunker than he'd prefer to be dealing with the gunblader, and he was sure to get a good bitching for having kept Seifer waiting, too. But even before he had time to think about it, he remembered that kiss from earlier - the feeling of Seifer's hands on him and the smell of his cologne - and that idea was shot. He'd had a week to linger on the memories of that night spent with Seifer, and all it had done was make him eager for more. And more and more.

This was bad. Already he was itching to be near Seifer again, to touch and taste and feel him, to commit every detail to memory. It was as bad as an addiction. What was worse, he was letting his impatience to get back to Seifer overrun his common sense - imagine blabbing to Selphie, of all people, that he was meeting someone in the middle of the night. He smiled anyway as he made his way through the dark hallways towards the boys' dorms. If he was going to hell anyway, he might as well go down swinging, right?


	24. Chapter 23

Seifer had never been a heavy sleeper. Even before the war that gave him enough fuel for a lifetime's worth of nightmares, he had always had bouts of insomnia, during which nothing could be done but lie there in the dark and think. Think about life, think about choices. Or just try not to think at all.

Suddenly having another person occupying his bed didn't change things. The clock on the wall, which was faintly visible by the eerie blueish glow of Garden's lights coming through the window, told him that it was now past two in the morning, and yet here he was still wide awake, doing laps in his head. Zell had dozed off more than an hour ago, despite the fact that both of them had agreed from day one that it would be highly stupid and risky for them to spend nights together. He should have kicked Zell out as soon as they were done fucking, before the other man had a chance to get cozy in his bed and install himself there permanently, but he never did. Maybe he was too soft-hearted.

No, there was no _maybe_ about it - he was a total doormat where it came to Zell, and what's more, he didn't care. His reputation as a badass was long gone, and he didn't miss it. It had taken Zell a remarkably short amount of time to pare away all of Seifer's hard, crusty outer layers and get to the gooey, soft, romantic center. In less than four weeks, he'd managed to wriggle his fingers into all the chinks in Seifer's mental armor and pry it wide open, exposing what was inside - a surprisingly less scary beast than either of them might have thought.

If Zell was an open book, then Seifer was more like a prison cell - the dark and ugly things he had spent years shoving into the back of his mind were best kept locked behind bars for everyone's safety. Still, his demons seemed a little less frightening these days. He hated to be sappy and say it was an effect of love, but it probably was - having Zell around made him happier than he'd been in a long, long time, which in turn made him less apt to brood on things that were in the past and, therefore, unchangeable. He was satisfied with the present, and that was enough. As for the future, well, it wasn't something Seifer had ever spent time worrying about before, and he wasn't going to start now.

He hated to think that maybe all he had needed these miserable past few years was for someone to bully their way into his heart, the way Zell had - the idea reeked of Quistis-like romanticism, for one - but it might be close to the truth. Besides Zell, Fuujin and Raijin were his only real friends. They had known Seifer for so long that there was almost nothing they didn't already know about him - and those were the things they would never know, if Seifer had his way about it. With Zell it was different, because although he had known the martial artist for most of their lives, up until recently, Seifer had never had any interest in knowing anything about Zell, except maybe how to piss him off. He was enjoying the learning process.

He leaned over closer to Zell, and jabbed his elbow none-too-gently into the other man's back. Zell jerked awake so hard he nearly rolled off the other side of the bed. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded to know, glaring up at Seifer through his hair, which was a disheveled mess.

"You told me not to let you sleep."

"I told you not to let me _fall asleep_," Zell grouched, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair out of his face. "If I'm already asleep, you might as well let me sleep."

He yawned, and Seifer watched him begin to doze off again, still propped up on his elbows. "You can't stay here all night," he said after a moment, and Zell blinked awake again.

"Why not? I don't have to work in the morning," he mumbled, settling down into the bed again.

"I do," Seifer said.

"Mmmm," was all Zell said, unhelpfully. A few moments later, he sighed, and cracked one eye to peer up at Seifer, still looking sleepy but undeniably awake. "You always have to work in the morning. I think I liked it better when you were still a lowly, errand-rank SeeD."

Seifer smiled. Zell was just teasing - after all, he'd been the one bursting with excitement to spill the news about Seifer's promotion in the first place, even if at the time Seifer had been fairly certain the other man was pulling his leg. Turned out someone had whispered a good word in their fearless leader's ear about him - and that someone had probably been Quistis, Seifer reckoned; almost nobody else in Garden had anything good to say about him these days, especially with all the publicity from the Estharian Garden fiasco. Quistis had been going out of her way to be pleasant to Seifer since their return from Galbadia, more than likely because she felt bad about what she perceived as a huge mistake in making him and Zell go together. Secretly, Seifer had to be grateful to her - because without her direct interference, his current good relationship with Zell would almost certainly not exist - but of course, she could never know that.

The promotion had come with an unprecedented seven-rank jump - which Seifer and Zell both agreed was overdue - and a more than decent pay raise, which was a nice bonus, to Seifer's thinking. He never really spent money on anything besides books, anyway, but it was nice to at least have the option of spending money if he wanted to. Easily the best part of the deal was the fact that Seifer was actually allowed to do some real work - and over the last three weeks, he'd gone on a total of five assignments, two of which had ended with trouble. The only real downside was the fact that having a real, actual job to do limited his time with Zell - the new semester had begun, and the instructor worked so much that their days off rarely coincided. Coordinating their nights was no problem, but Seifer knew he wasn't the only one who found it a huge drag to have to sneak back to his room in the wee hours of the morning to avoid being caught.

They had agreed early on to keep the overnight visits to a bare minimum - only when they could plan it ahead of time, and definitely never during the week, when students were out and about at all hours of the day and night, and the chances of one of them being seen leaving the other's room was high. Despite that, they rarely spent a night together where they parted before morning, and it wasn't always because their sexual encounters actually lasted that long. Seifer really enjoyed sleeping with Zell through the night, and because most of their meetings were at his place (Zell claimed it was safer, as it was far less likely that someone would come round to visit Seifer in the early hours of the morning, whereas people were always dropping in on him at home,) he never had the heart to make Zell leave if the other man didn't want to.

"Are you going to be around this weekend?" Zell asked, stifling another yawn.

"Yeah, I should be."

"I've got the whole weekend free, so let's do something."

"Something besides fucking?" Seifer replied, which made Zell snort.

"Not besides. More like," Zell paused, thoughtful, "in addition to."

"What do you have in mind?"

"A quiet night in. You know… movies, dinner. That sort of thing," Zell said. Seifer shifted to lay on his side, face-to-face with Zell in the small bed. The proposition was inviting - although they had fallen into a routine of seeing each other a few nights a week, they hardly spent any time together that wasn't in a bed.

"You're going to make me dinner?" Seifer teased, grinning.

"_You_ can make _me_ dinner," Zell countered.

"How does take-out sound?"

"Whatever," Zell said, giving a half-shrug, and then he flipped over to lay on his back. "You take care of the food and I'll cover the movies. Not too tricky for you, is it?"

"Then it's a date," Seifer said casually, purely for the look on Zell's face, which was highly amused at the remark.

"Yeah, that's what it is. Don't look so happy about it."

"I'm positively thrilled," was Seifer's response. "Now get out of my room. I have to be up in five hours, you know."

He didn't mean to sound so gruff, but Zell didn't seem to take offense. The truth was, he _was_ thrilled - and a little embarrassed to be so happy over such a small thing. Zell didn't have a romantic cell in his body, was in fact completely oblivious to the whole concept - which was good, because it meant that Seifer didn't have to try that hard. So for the other man to suggest something as couple-y as a date night was a shock, albeit a pleasant one.

Zell was giving him a very skeptical look now. "What does _that_ matter?" he asked, scoffing. "It's not like you sleep anyway."

"Maybe I'd sleep if you'd leave," Seifer shot back.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Zell replied, and as Seifer didn't have an answer for that that wasn't an affirmation, he said nothing. Zell scooted a little closer, propping himself up on his elbows as he leaned toward Seifer. "Well," he said coolly, "if you're not going to sleep, I'm not going to sleep, so let's have a chat."

"Oh yeah? What about?"

"You still owe me an explanation about that last night in Deling City," Zell said, "in case you forgot…"

Seifer looked over at him. The other man's expression was cool, but Seifer would be willing to bet he'd worked on how to say that. "Are you sure you're not the one who forgot?" he said in response. "That was weeks ago."

"Well, maybe a little bit," Zell replied. "But also, I've been waiting for a good time to bring it up."

"What makes you think that time is right now?" Seifer said. Zell gave him a quelling look that said that his sass was not appreciated.

"Because you're already irritating me, so now you owe me. And, anyway, you promised you'd tell me."

"I did not," Seifer muttered. He didn't make promises, for one, although he did recall the particular conversation Zell was talking about, and he had definitely said something about "some other time". He should have figured Zell would hold him to it.

"Well, if you don't want to talk about it," the other man began to say.

"It's not that," Seifer interrupted. Zell just gave him a curious look, waiting. "It's just… there's not really anything to say about it."

"You never answered my question."

"And what question was that?"

"Are you okay?" Zell asked.

Seifer gave a sigh. "I thought I covered that one already," he said.

"You gave me the short answer. I'm still waiting on the long one."

"There's no long answer," Seifer replied sharply, sounding more irritated than he really felt. It wasn't like he didn't want to talk about it, or anything; just that there wasn't much to tell. "I don't know what you expect me to say about it," he went on, while Zell watched him with a totally unimpressed look at his surliness. "You asked a really simple question and I gave you a really simple answer. If I wasn't fine, you would have known."

"Well, pardon me for thinking your mental state might not be exactly scotch considering everything that happened that night," Zell said placidly, completely unfazed by Seifer's brusque declaration. They stared at each other for a moment or two, and there was definitely a challenge in Zell's eyes - god, he knew exactly how to play Seifer, and he was good at it, too. Gone were the days where Seifer could ruffle the other man with dickish remarks and snarky wit; once Zell had grasped the idea that all of Seifer's antagonism was just a front, a device to steer conversations his way, he totally refused to play along.

"Look, if you really want to know," Seifer said eventually, sighing again.

"I do," Zell said.

Seifer hesitated. Zell was his opposite in a lot of ways, but none more so than the martial artist's total inability to be anything but honest. Everything about Zell was open - in everything from his expressions to his questions, he was incapable of deceit. Honesty was something Seifer had to work at - and it was an uphill battle some days - but he did work at it, especially when Zell was on an interrogation spree. The other man was, for some reason, bent on sticking his fingers into the muck and mire of Seifer's mind space.

"Why?" he countered.

"Why?" Zell repeated, sounding a little surprised. Evidently he hadn't needed a reason to go probing. He thought about it for a moment, and finally went on, "I'll tell you why. I've spent the last two months trying to figure you out, and every time I think I'm getting somewhere, you throw another curveball in. So excuse me for wanting to know stuff about you. FYI, you're perfectly free to ask me anything, you know."

"I don't need to ask you questions. You tell me everything without being asked," Seifer grumbled, but he couldn't help but smile. Obviously Zell had some sort of feelings for him beyond the sexual ones, or they wouldn't be having deep and meaningful conversations like this in the middle of the night, but it was nice to be affirmed of it.

"So I like to talk. If you didn't like it, you'd tell me to shut up," Zell pointed out, grinning as well. Seifer didn't have an answer for that; the other man had him pegged, that was for sure. He really didn't mind Zell's almost ceaseless chatter - it beat the silence he was so used to, at least. And if he did feel like shutting Zell up for a while, he knew a few good ways. "I'm not trying to be nosy or whatever," Zell continued, "I just like to ask. I guess I have a natural curiosity. Anyway, if it's a sore subject for you, you can just say so. It's when you start giving me the runaround I get irritated. What's so funny?" he added, looking confused; halfway through his little speech, Seifer had begun laughing, and now he couldn't stop.

"I'm defeated," he said after a moment or two, sighing a little.

"What? What does that mean?"

Instead of answering, Seifer leaned over to plant a kiss on Zell's lips - a stalling tactic that sometimes worked. The other man's capability for surprising him had no limits, it seemed. Just when he thought he couldn't be any more ridiculously in love with Zell, the martial artist managed to give him that warm fuzzy feeling all over again. If it was a sign of what Seifer's life had been like up until that point that the meager thing of Zell being interested in his feelings was enough to move him, he chose to ignore it.

The truth was, no one _had_ ever been interested before. Yes, circumstances had forced Zell to develop an interest - being stuck together with Seifer for a whole month had done more than just test the limits of his patience - but the fact was that Zell was perfectly free to fuck off out of Seifer's life at any time he started to get fed up with the ex-knight - and yet, _he didn't._ He chose not just to continue the relationship they'd started in Deling City, but to take it a step further - not only did he _like_ Seifer, he actually _cared_ about Seifer. They didn't need to have discussions or talk about their feelings for Seifer to know it; he could read Zell like a book.

"Did anyone ever tell you," Zell said quietly, grinning as they parted, "that you're a total fucking enigma?"

"No," Seifer replied truthfully, still lost in his thoughts a bit. "But no one's ever stuck around as long as you to find out, either. Makes me wonder what's wrong with you," he added teasingly.

"What you should be wondering is what's wrong with everyone else," Zell replied candidly. His expression didn't even falter as he said it, completely serious, and for a moment Seifer just stared at him. "Now what?" he went on, as Seifer started to laugh again.

"Do you practice that?"

"Practice?" Zell repeated, his grin disappearing.

"Saying that ridiculous shit," Seifer elaborated, and Zell gave him a wry look. "I swear, it's like every conversation we have is designed to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible."

This comment brought back Zell's smile. "Well, if you're uncomfortable, then I'm doing something right," he teased, and then he kissed Seifer again. "By the way, in case you already forgot… you _still_ haven't answered my first question."

"You're really not letting it go, are you?"

"What do you think?" Zell replied with a sly grin.

"I think you're looking for something that's not there," Seifer said coolly.

"It's just, you kind of… surprised me," Zell admitted, although his expression indicated he meant it in a good way. "I guess I expected… I dunno, more of a reaction? Considering, you know, everything."

"I kind of surprised myself," Seifer said, which was true, even if he hadn't really thought about it up until then. Zell's eyebrows went up, and Seifer knew he'd have to elaborate. This was what Zell was after - hearing him admit stuff that not only was not at all relevant, but was embarrassing to boot. Clearly, Zell had just as much of a sadistic streak in him as Seifer had a masochistic one. "I mean, I was angry," he continued, while Zell waited with bated breath, "at first. I was so angry I couldn't see straight. But by the time I got upstairs, it just didn't seem to matter anymore. It wasn't worth getting worked up over."

He paused then, and waited for a reply from Zell. He was speaking the truth - he'd been so angry after that scene in the restroom that he probably would have ripped Dallia a new one if Zell hadn't pretty much ordered him away, and even still, he'd been tempted to barge right back in there and have a go at her anyway, after all the shit she put them through. Somehow, in the short amount of time it took him to make his way upstairs, it just stopped being important. And by the time Zell caught up with him only a few minutes later, he'd already been over thinking about it for some time.

Seifer had known from day one that she was just fucking them around. She had made that clear. There was a part of him, actually, that was a little impressed with her guts, and he couldn't but admit that she was smart - way smarter than he'd had her pegged. But whatever his feelings toward Dallia, or toward the situation she'd put them in, it was gone and past them. So even if he was inclined to linger on it, which he really wasn't, there was no use anyway.

"Hmm," Zell finally said, after a few moments when Seifer didn't go on.

"That's all you have to say? After pestering me?"

"That's all I need to know," was Zell's reply, and he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I understand everything now."

"Wh-?" Seifer sat up as well, watching with mounting irritation as Zell collected his clothes from the floor. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm gonna head back to mine. Since you've got to work in the morning," the other man said, flipping his tee-shirt right side out again. He was grinning, but Seifer wasn't fooled; the martial artist was trying to wind him up. He glanced back over his shoulder with a smirk, and added, "unless you wanted me to stay?"

"You think you've got me all figured out now, is that it?" Seifer said coolly.

"Yeah, I'm getting there."

Seifer leaned across the bed, and yanked the jeans Zell was in the process of putting on right out of his hands. "Quit it with the coy shit. You're not going anywhere," he declared, throwing Zell's clothes onto the floor and wrapping an arm around the other man's waist to pull him back into bed. "I wish I could say the same," Seifer added a moment later, when Zell gave up a very short attempt to struggle away, "but there are some things about you that I will not _ever_ understand."

"Like what?"

"For starters, this stupid insistance you have on getting into my head," Seifer huffed.

Zell shoved him backward into the pillows, and then crawled on top of him, still grinning. "Seifer, you need someone in your head," he said teasingly. "It's a mess up there. You need someone to tidy up and, you know, organize for you. Sort stuff… maybe file some things…"

"That makes you my secretary," Seifer said.

"Whatever you want to call it," Zell shot back in a cheeky tone. He was trying to bait Seifer, but the gunblader found he couldn't muster up a suitably snarky response. Truth was, he didn't know what he _would_ call it if he were asked, by Zell or anyone else. None of the usual words used to describe their type of relationship quite fit them. The topic hadn't come up between he and Zell yet, and he sure wasn't going to be the one to bring it up.

"Okay, look," Zell said eventually, starting to sound exasperated, "I don't know if it's on purpose or not, but you're obviously not getting where I'm coming from, so I'm gonna make it very clear. I like you. I wouldn't have stuck with you as long as it took for us to get to where we are now if I didn't, because frankly you make it really hard to like you sometimes. Anyway, the point is, the more I learn about you, the more I do like you, so having said that… it's up to you if you don't want to tell me stuff."

"I want to, I'm just… not good at it," Seifer said hesitantly, and was gratified to see Zell looking genuinely pleased at this admission - something he wouldn't have even admitted at all, except that it was the sort of thing Zell seemed to like to hear.

"Well, you get points for effort, too."

"Oh, yeah? And what's my reward?"

Zell pretended to think about it. "The satisfaction of being a good, honest person?"

"I think I'll stick with being a jerk," was Seifer's reply.

"And maybe… other stuff."

"'Other stuff'? And what exactly does that mean?" Seifer asked skeptically. "Can I get a demonstration?"

"Well…" Zell paused, thinking again, but he was grinning. "You have done quite good tonight, I'll admit."

Seifer leaned up to kiss Zell, pulling the other man closer with a hand around the back of his neck. "I hope this doesn't mean you're going to interrogate me every time we fuck," he murmured a few moments later.

"No, not every time," Zell said sassily. "How about every other?"

"How about never?"

"Alright, one in three."

Seifer reached up to grab Zell by the shoulder, and with a quick motion, flipped the other man over, climbing over him and pinning him down. "Time for you to shut up now," Seifer said gruffly.

"Well, finally," Zell retorted with a smirk, and then neither of them spoke again.

* * *

Zell was obviously in a bad mood - if just the fact that he had barged into Seifer's room in the middle of the day wasn't enough of a giveaway that something was amiss, the way he had done it, with a great deal of door-slamming, foot-stomping, and under-the-breath muttering, was a hint. Seifer sat up where he'd been laying across the bed, putting his book aside, and watched Zell kick his shoes off with angry grumbling. Of course, Zell had his key code and could come and go whenever he pleased, but they had an agreement about daytime visits, especially unplanned ones, being highly risky - add that to the fact that Zell should have been in the middle of a class right about now, and Seifer couldn't help but be a little concerned.

The martial artist seemed almost as surprised to find Seifer there as Seifer was to see him. "What are you doing here in the middle of the day?" he asked, shoving his shoes to one side of the door and then throwing his jacket on the back of a chair.

"I should ask you the same thing, shouldn't I?" Seifer replied, feeling nonplussed. Zell came over to the bed and sat down on the floor next to it, tilting his head back over the edge of the mattress.

"I figure this is the last place anyone will find me," Zell said with a sigh. "Is it your day off?"

"Yeah."

Zell sighed again, but didn't say anything to explain his abrupt appearance and seemingly foul mood. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the side of the bed. Seifer studied him for a moment without speaking. He looked tired; his hair was disheveled and Seifer could smell the dirt and sweat on him. He had clearly just come from his mid-week martial arts class, which was one of his favorite things, so Seifer didn't see why he should look so haggard. "Is everything quite alright?" he had to ask eventually.

"Ugh," Zell said, but he opened his eyes to look up at Seifer. "I just had a row with Squall."

"I didn't know his highness did rows," Seifer replied truthfully.

"Well, mostly I shouted at him. Another fucking reporter got into Garden today," Zell muttered.

Seifer said nothing. Zell didn't explain any further, but he didn't have to; they'd both had their share of irritation in dealing with the paparazzi since returning from Galbadia. Although Zell seemed to be getting it worse lately; since Seifer had made it clear in a very impolite way that they weren't going to get anything on the Dallia Caraway affair from him, they had redoubled their efforts on the other man. "That's the fifth one in the last two months to get in," Zell went on after a while, his tone sharp with anger, "and the second one to come barging into the middle of my class. I mean, fuck. I know Squall can't refuse to let them in, but you'd think at least that Xu and her fucking shitty DC could keep them out of my classes. I swear I would have hit the guy if he hadn't run away when I started yelling at him."

"I'm sorry I missed it," Seifer said, only half-teasing. Watching Zell beat the shit out of some pond-scum tabloid reporter from Deling City was something he wouldn't mind seeing - especially as it was something he'd frequently fantasized about doing himself lately.

"Anyway, do you mind if I hang out here for a while and blow off steam?" Zell asked. "I'm sure Quistis and Xu will be after me soon enough but I just can't deal with them right now."

"I've got no plans," was all Seifer said in reply.

Zell went silent again, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling with a cross, thoughtful sort of expression. Seifer pretended to read his book again, but he could feel Zell gearing up for something - probably a rant on the horrible job Xu and her Disciplinary Committee were doing of keeping up Garden security, something Seifer had heard before. It was true that Garden couldn't refuse entry to members of the public, press included, but there were areas of Garden that were restricted from public viewing, such as the dorms and the infirmary. The Training Center was not one of these areas, but reporters were warned that it was entered at one's own risk, and not many of them chose to. So really, it was impressive that two of them had managed to get far enough in to interrupt Zell's classes - impressive, but still annoying.

Zell tilted his head to look over at Seifer again. "You saw the news yesterday, right?" he asked, a hint of caution in his tone.

"Yeah," Seifer said.

"Probably going to be a lot more of them in the next few weeks," Zell went on with a sigh, talking about the paparazzi again.

Again, Seifer didn't reply. He was well aware, and Squall had already had him clear his schedule for the next week or two just in case there happened to be crowds of reporters and photographers waiting for him to step out of Garden. He'd assumed Zell would being doing something similar, but then, he could see how he might be a more particular target for the press this time around, considering the story that had aired just the night before.

Zell sat up, and then pulled himself up onto the bed, crossing his legs and leaning closer to Seifer. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but he didn't, and after a minute or two, Seifer got fed up. "Something you want to ask me?" he said nonchalantly, putting his book aside again.

"Well," Zell began, and then hesitated. He started again, "I guess I want to ask… what do you think about it?"

"About Dallia being a sorceress? It's not really news to me," Seifer replied.

"I mean, about her announcing it. I know she said she wanted to, but I didn't think she'd really do it… or not so quickly," Zell went on, sounding contemplative. For Seifer's part, he didn't much care, besides for the fact that the influx of tabloid and TV reporters trying to get the inside scoop on his and Dallia's relationship was going to make his life a new kind of hell in the following weeks. True, she hadn't mentioned him or Zell at all in her little press-conference reveal - in fact, she had insisted that no one but her husband was aware that she was a sorceress, which probably no one believed - but the press loved to slap Seifer's name on any scandal involving a sorceress. But as long as Dallia didn't try to involve him in whatever she was up to now, Seifer couldn't care less about it.

"You angry?" Zell asked him, sounding concerned.

"No."

"You look angry."

"Do I not usually?" Seifer said, just to be flip. This at least had the effect of coaxing a small smile out of Zell.

"Alright, fine," he said, holding up his hand in defeat. "Just read your book."

"No," Seifer huffed, and he grabbed the book and threw it on the floor. "Are you picking a fight with me?"

"Not at all."

"Then why don't you tell me what you're getting at," he said lowly.

Zell was definitely holding back a smirk now. "Just, you know… blowing off steam," he replied in an impish tone.

Seifer gritted his teeth. Zell was a master of passive-aggressive torture, and while it was aggravating, on some level Seifer had to be impressed by the fact that the other man had gotten to know him well enough to know exactly how to push his buttons. "I'd love to hit you right now, but I'm afraid you'd like it," Seifer grumbled under his breath.

"You're a lot better than you used to be, you know," Zell said. "About the Dallia thing. You used to get all kinds of mad."

"I spend a lot of time not thinking about it," was Seifer's terse answer, "and I'd appreciate if you'd stop bringing it up, because what I'd really like to do is just forget that she even exists."

"Oh, okay. Can do," Zell replied, looking smug.

"So what happened with your class?"

"Nothing much," Zell said with a sigh. "This asshole came crawling through the bushes and pestering me with the usual questions. When I told him to beat it, he started harassing my students, so that's when I got really angry," he explained, making a sour face. "I would have slapped him around a bit but he took off pretty quickly when I began yelling. Anyway, I sent the kids back for the day and went straight upstairs to give Squall a piece of my mind."

"Bet he loved that," Seifer murmured. He watched Zell for a moment or two, the other man sitting with his chin in his hands, looking tired and contemplative but mostly cross. Zell was a bit of a hot-head, yeah, but he rarely got angry over trivial things. They were both getting fed up with the situation even before Dallia came out of the closet on the sorceress issue, and now things were likely to get a lot worse before they got better on that front. Seifer had - fairly complacently, at that - taken Squall's suggestion that he keep to himself within Garden for the foreseeable future to avoid any trouble with the press, but evidently Zell couldn't or wasn't willing to do the same. Which was a shame, really, because a week or two of downtime - preferably of the kind spent naked together between the sheets - would work to everyone's benefit.

"I ran into Nida and he said that Garden's probably going to head south for the winter," Zell went on. "Timber next month and then Winhill after that. Makes me wonder if it has anything to do with this whole mess with Dallia."

"You think Squall wants to distance Garden from all that? I can't say I'd disagree with him," Seifer replied.

Zell gave a perishing sort of sigh, and laid down on the bed, rubbing his forehead. He was evidently determined to worry about the situation, which aggravated Seifer, because it was pointless - but there wasn't really anything he could do either to stop Zell from fretting or to make him feel better about it. Consolation was never exactly Seifer's strong suit. He leaned back, bending down close to Zell. "Didn't you say they were looking for you?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure this is the last place anyone would think to look for me," Zell said nonchalantly. Seifer gave him a smile.

"Good, then I've got you to myself for a bit."

"Oh, but Quistis might come looking for you," Zell added, as if just remembering. "I saw her lurking outside while I was laying into Squall, so she'll probably try to do something meddlesome like warn you or give you advice, you know how she is."

"So I've got that to look forward to," was Seifer's glib reply, and he silenced whatever response the other man was about to make with a kiss. Whatever it was, it must not have been important, because Zell didn't make any attempt to break the kiss to speak again; even after a while, when they parted again and both just lay there in silence, he didn't try to pick up the conversation again.

Only at length did he finally say, in a tone that was both irritated and resigned, "I'd better get going. I should probably apologize to Squall…"

"Don't even move," Seifer ordered, putting his arm over Zell's chest to prevent him from getting up - an unnecessary action anyway; Zell hadn't made the slightest move to get up, despite what he'd said. "Squall's not your problem. Just relax a little. Didn't you say no one would find you here?"

"Someone might come looking for _you_," Zell said pointedly. "Then how do I explain myself?"

"You came to warn me about the paparazzi," Seifer offered.

"And you just happened to fall on top of me on the bed and then not get up?"

"I have a better option: if someone knocks on the door, I'll just not answer it."

"I somehow doubt that'll put Quistis off," Zell said skeptically. He pushed Seifer's arm away and sat up, smoothing back his hair. "I'll come by tonight, how's that?"

"I'll be here," Seifer said dryly. Then, with a hint of bitterness, he added, "every day for the next who knows how long…"

"Don't worry," Zell replied with a smirk. "I'll be around to keep you entertained…"


	25. Chapter 24

Autumn was definitely in the air. Zell's favorite season was always summer, but there was something about the change of seasons that he really enjoyed - maybe because they didn't get much of a change from season to season in Balamb. Last week it had still felt like high summer there, even though it was nearing October now. Here in Timber, the approaching winter was more evident - a chill in the air, a hint of rust in the trees. Rumor was that Garden's destination for the winter was Winhill, which Zell thought would be nice; he hadn't seen snow since his last trip to Trabia, nearly two years ago.

His daily routine had returned, more or less, to normal over the past three months - and yes, his and Seifer's relationship was still on the list of things that comprised his "normal" routine these days. It was sometimes a wonder to Zell, not that they'd managed to stay together for three months already, but how _easy_ staying together had been; it felt so natural to be with Seifer that Zell sometimes couldn't remember what it was like to consider the other man an enemy. Maybe they bickered more than your average couple, but for the most part they got along, and Zell had almost completely lost the urge to slap Seifer across the head when he started being a dick - probably mostly because Seifer had stopped actively _trying_ to antagonize him, and was just being himself. Unsurprisingly, he was actually a decent guy, in spite of his raging sarcastic streak and a tendency to clam up whenever Zell got personal with him.

Zell was so lost in his head thinking about it that he didn't even realize he wasn't alone walking down the corridor until Quistis called his name, startling him out of his thoughts. She was coming toward him with her usual giant stack of books and file folders in her arms, looking harried, just like usual. What she was doing wandering around the men's dorms at a quarter past five in the morning, Zell had no idea, but he silently thanked his lucky stars she hadn't come strolling past even a minute earlier, or he'd have had a hell of a time explaining why he was sneaking out of Seifer's room at the crack of dawn. "What a perfect coincidence," Quistis said as she approached him, hoisting her books back up as they began to slide out of her arms. "I was just coming to look for you."

"At this hour? For god's sake, why?" Zell asked, trying to sound joking.

"I've got something for you," she replied, flipping through the topmost folder in her pile with one hand while fighting a losing battle to keep everything perched in her elbow with the other. "Actually I was going to slide it under your door, but this is better. I didn't expect you'd be up this early."

She gave him a look that made the remark clearly a question. "I was going to go for a run," he said coolly.

"Well, I'm glad I caught you anyway," she said in a distracted sort of way.

"Quistis, what are you doing up at this hour anyway?"

"Oh, I haven't been to sleep," she answered, with a little grin as though that was completely normal for her - which it was. "I've had a backlog of paperwork piling up for weeks now and I've been so busy with midterm stuff that I couldn't get to it. Now I'm paying the price." She finally found what she was looking for, easing a manila folder out from between two binders crammed full with papers. "I just have some late applications for next semester's advanced hand combat course that I need you to look over. Squall passed them on to me but he must have forgotten that that's _your_ class."

"Alright, I'll take care of it," Zell said. "When do you need these by?"

"Friday."

"This friday? Isn't that a bit short notice?" he grumbled.

"Oh, relax. It won't even take you an hour," Quistis replied dismissively. "I was going to give it to you last weekend, but I couldn't get a hold of you. Were you out of Garden?"

"Yeah, I went into town," Zell replied. "I wanted to visit Ma before we left Balamb."

Quistis gave him a long, strange look. "Hmm," she said puzzlingly. Zell wondered if she bought it; of course, he was lying straight to her face - he hadn't gone out of Garden at all last weekend; he and Seifer had been holed up at the other man's place, quite happily ignoring the fact that the rest of the world existed for two whole days. He didn't like lying to Quistis, but thankfully he didn't have much occasion to lately; she seemed to have lost her penchant for snooping these last few weeks - either that, or she was just too busy to be much interested in the minutiae of Zell's day-to-day life. "Well, just drop it by my place whenever you're finished with it," Quistis went on after a moment's pause, passing the folder to Zell. "You can just slip it under my door; I probably won't be home much this week. Or I'll be sleeping. I feel like I could nap for a year right about now," she said with a chuckle.

"I'll get to it this afternoon, then. Is there anything else I can do for you, Quistis?" he asked, giving her a wry smile. "You look, no offense, a little… worse for wear…"

"No, I'm fine," she insisted. "I'm almost finished, actually. I just have class this morning and I _hate_ trying to teach after an all-nighter. The cadets can tell when I'm tired and they hassle me to try and get class canceled. But to be honest, it sounds like a really good idea…" she said wistfully.

"Can I help you with that?" Zell said, motioning to the huge load of stuff she was still carrying.

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "So, you stayed with your Ma over the weekend? I'm jealous; I never have time to go into town whenever we're in Balamb."

"Yeah, I wish I could visit more often, but I don't get enough free time," Zell said with a shrug. "But I happened to get the weekend off, so…"

"How is your Ma? I feel like I haven't seen her in ages."

"She's really good. She's talking about getting a dog," he remarked, laughing a little. "The neighbors got a puppy a few months back and she just loves the rotten little thing. I told her she'd go better with a cat, but of course she doesn't listen to me…"

"The funny thing is," Quistis began, and she gave a little shrewd sort of smile. "The funny thing is," she began again, after a pause, "I went into town last weekend for the market and I happened to run into your Ma there, doing some shopping."  
"Oh, really?" Zell said, trying to sound cool, but his heart was pounding all of a sudden. She was calling him out; she had caught him lying cold. Well, it was going to happen sooner or later, he figured, not that that was any consolation. He tried to think fast about what he was going to say when she started asking the questions she was bound to ask. Maybe he could just turn and run away; it wasn't likely she could follow with all those books in her arms.

"Yeah, and _she_ asked me how _you_ were," Quistis went on, and her smile was a little more terse now. "That's funny, isn't it? Seeing as how you were there over the weekend."

"What are you getting at, Quistis?" he said shortly.

"Are you lying to me?"

He didn't answer, but stared at her as she stared back, now frowning. "There's obviously something going on," she continued a tense moment later, "but I wasn't going to pry. If you're going to lie to my face, however…"

She sounded angry, and maybe a little hurt - and yeah, Zell felt bad about it, but he wasn't going to be guilted into spilling everything… at least, not right here and right now. He'd like to tell Quistis the truth, eventually, in a setting that was a long way from Garden and preferably supplied with alcohol. She was waiting for him to speak, but he didn't respond.

"Are you seeing someone, like people are saying?" she asked next. "I guess I figured if that were the case, you'd at least tell me. I don't care about the details, even. Just a heads up would be nice. You know, 'hey, Quistis, by the way, I'm in love'-"

"I'm not-" Zell interrupted, and then stopped himself short. She was giving him a very cold look now, and he didn't know what to do - she looked pretty determined to be angry at him.

"You met someone in Galbadia, didn't you?" she said, giving a humorless smile as she shook her head. "I knew it. I _knew_ you were different when you came back. Or did this start even before then? How long have you been lying to all of us?"

"It's not like that," he said, trying to cut into her tirade before she really got rolling, but he wasn't quick enough. She stiffened up, clutching her books close to her as she stared at him over the top of them.

"Then what's it like, Zell? I mean, it must be bad if you've got to hide her from your closest friends. She's not Galbadian military or something, is she?" Quistis continued with her interrogation. Zell was puzzled for a moment or two over who she was even talking about, until it occurred to him that Quistis was assuming he had met a girl in Deling City. "You know what," Quistis said, shaking her head again, "maybe I _shouldn't_ ask. You clearly think I'm better off not knowing-"

"Don't get pissed at me for saying this, but yeah, you are," Zell interjected.

"Whatever," she said sharply. "I'm not looking for details or anything, okay? A little honesty is all. I'm sure it's hard. Having a normal relationship in this place is bad enough, let alone a secret one…"

"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Zell bit back, feeling suddenly fed up with her attitude. As if it was a crime to want to have some privacy in his life. Besides, Quistis wasn't one to preach on this subject, anyway; Zell had figured her out ages ago.

She had gone very white and still. "What are you talking about?" she said quietly, her expression of anger replaced with something that was mostly caution with a hint of fear around the edges.

"Maybe you can give me some advice on the secret relationship thing," Zell said cuttingly, before he could stop himself. "You and Zone seem to be pretty good at it. What's it been for you guys now, two years? I think you could do a lot better, by the way."

"Zell!" she snapped, looking scandalized. Her face had gone from white to scarlet red in no time, and Zell could see her hands shaking as she gripped her books with tense fingers.

"What? Don't like a taste of your own medicine?" he said meanly. "I don't go prying into your love life, do I? So stop prying into mine."

"I can't believe how you're acting," she said, breathing heavily. In fact, she looked like she might start to cry, which was enough to deflate whatever remained of Zell's anger and replace it with a hot, sinking sense of shame. He'd really gone for blood, hadn't he? Quistis didn't deserve that, no matter how meddlesome she was. He probably could have gotten away with just acting cool and fobbing her questions off, but a part of him was thinking that this way was better - getting things out in the open. At least he wouldn't have to go lying to Quistis point-blank again.

"How did you know?" Quistis asked, after a minute of silence as they both collected themselves. Her face was still quite flushed; Zell had never seen her so red. "Of course," she added a moment later, "Irvine. God damnit."

"It wasn't Irvine," Zell said, sighing a little. "I just figured it out on my own. You're not in Timber every other weekend for the scenery, I'm sure."

She looked away from him, taking deep breaths, as if to calm herself. Zell gave her another minute, waiting to see what her reaction would be once she got a hold of herself. Judging from what had just happened, he'd wager he was the first person to guess her out on her relationship with Zone - or the second person, since evidently Irvine had known. Truthfully, Zell had half been guessing when he made that remark, and was a little surprised to get such a confirmation of it in Quistis' utter panic.

"Quistis, I'm sorry," he said after a while, when it was clear that she was very much upset - her expression vacillating between completely bewildered and verging on tears. "I didn't mean to attack you like that. I just… lost it for a second."

She sniffed, straightened up a little, and then finally looked him in the face again. "I'm sorry I provoked you," she said, her voice only a little weak. "I was going to be really pissed that you've been hiding things from me, but I'm not one to talk, now am I?"

"Maybe we can just both agree that we've been wrong," Zell offered. Quistis nodded her acceptance of this plan with grace.

Another silence stretched awkwardly between them. Zell waited, watching her fidget with her papers, determined not to be the first to speak. If Quistis wasn't inclined to say anything more concerning her own love life, then Zell could probably get away from this conversation without having to divulge the details of his own, but Quistis' attitude would be the decider - her expression was equal parts mortification, unease, and guilt, so it was hard to say which way she might lean.

"It'll be three years at Christmas," she remarked after a while, giving a shrug as though she'd given up on anything resembling denial. Then a little smirk crept onto her face at Zell's shocked expression.

"No shit?" he said, and she nodded again. Zell was surprised despite himself. He'd made that guess pretty wildly, and even if he'd half thought it could be true, he would never have guessed that Quistis and Zone were a serious item…

"By the way, I resent that part about 'could do better'," Quistis added sniffily, though she was still smiling. "Zone is really quite sweet. I wish you knew him better. He treats me like a queen."

"Well, that's very good to know. Really," Zell said awkwardly, but with sincerity. He'd have to take Quistis' word for it, because although he had met Zone more than a handful of times over the last few years, he still couldn't retain much of an impression of the guy. Briefly, he considered asking Quistis just how in hell _that_had ended up happening in the first place, but he was reluctant to pry in case she took it as encouragement to do the same. She hadn't said anything more, but she was watching him with an expectant look, clearly waiting for him to be the next one to speak.

She wasn't going to let him off the hook; he'd have to tell her _something_. He chewed the corner of his lip, contemplating what to say.

Quistis evidently didn't have the patience this morning. "So-" she began again, but this time Zell cut her off.

"Yes, I've been seeing someone," he said, and Quistis started at his abrupt tone. "And, yes, it began while I was in Deling City," he went on, "but I really can't say anything more about it so _please_ don't ask me to, okay?"

"Well-" Quistis seemed to dither for a moment, shifting the stack of books in her arms fussily, before she gave in. "Yes, I understand. Same goes to you, then, right?"

"Of course," Zell said, feeling silently as relieved as Quistis was now looking herself. Granted, he was more than a little curious about Quistis and had a few questions for her, but he wasn't so eager to know that he'd risk her taking it as an invitation to interrogate if he broke their new-formed truce. He'd have to suffer curiosity - luckily, it wasn't a terrible burden on him; Quistis however had been known to succumb to her meddling nature with very little persuasion in the past, so Zell couldn't count on this subject being completely dropped between them just yet.

"Thanks for telling me," Quistis said after a short while, obviously casting about for something kind to say after their little spat.

"Honestly, I've been feeling really terrible about hiding it from you," Zell admitted; this confession seemed to buoy Quistis, who was now smiling at him in a very affectionate sort of way. "And that's only for three months. I can't imagine how you've done it for nearly three years already."

Quistis' smile went a little taut. "Well," she began after thinking for a moment about it, "the truth is, the subject has never really come up. I suppose no one ever thought it feasible enough that I might _not_ be single to actually ask me about it. Even _you_ haven't asked me about my love life more than a handful of times over the past few years."

"I… I didn't reckon it was any of my business," Zell replied sheepishly; he had the distinct feeling that Quistis was peeved over this. She surprised him, however, by laughing.

"Quite right, it isn't," she said, giving a sigh. "I know I shouldn't even complain, but honestly I'm a little_insulted_ that you've never tried to pry. Especially as I've been a horrible snoop, and meddlesome to boot. I think you're a better person than I am, Zell."

"I don't know about that-" Zell began to say, but the sound of footsteps in the corridor made them both freeze as they remembered where they were - Quistis shot him a look that said she was about to start panicking; Zell tried to convey through facial expression his desperation for her to not do that. "So you want this back to you when? By friday?" he said loudly, flipping pointedly through the file folder she'd given him as though they were in the middle of a conversation that didn't include any reference to either of their private lives.

"As soon as possible would be best," Quistis replied, catching on. "I've got a lot of paperwork to get in before the weekend, you know. Oh, good morning, Nida," she added, as though she had just noticed the other man approaching them in the deserted corridor.

"Morning, guys," Nida said, stifling a yawn; his hair was sticking up in the back. He paused, looking back and forth between Zell and Quistis with a shrewd expression. "Funny place to be meeting so early in the morning," he remarked slyly.

"We're not meeting here," Zell said. "We just… met here."

"Hmm," Nida replied.

"It's a bit early for you, isn't it?" Quistis asked, before the pilot could do much more than cast secretive, knowing looks at them.

"I'm going into town. I've got to get out of Garden before Xu gets up, or she'll give me hell about it," Nida explained, rolling his eyes. "'What if something happens and we need to get moving while you're out? It's very irresponsible of you to not tell me where you're going!' Honestly, you'd think there's no one else here who could operate this thing," he grumbled.

"Well, frankly, that _is_ a little irresponsible," Quistis said, now frowning. "You should be taking your responsibilities more seriously, Nida, especially as you're one of the few SeeDs who-"

"Ugh, okay, I get it," Nida interrupted, sounding exasperated. "I'm very serious about it, alright? I just want a break once in a while… never mind," he said, sighing. "I'm going, okay? If you're going to tattle on me, can you wait a few minutes so I can get clear of Garden at least?"

He didn't wait for Quistis' reply, but quickly walked away from them, evidently afraid that she was going to give him an earful in Xu's place. Zell shook his head a little as they watched the pilot disappear around the corner at a fast pace.

"You could have cut him a break," he told Quistis.

"Oh, I didn't mean it," she said, breaking into a smile again. "I just said that so he'd leave as quickly as possible. Actually I feel kind of bad for him sometimes. Xu runs him ragged up in that cabin."

Zell gave a chuckle at that, and then they both lapsed into silence again. Nida's interruption had proved that their current position was not ideal for the conversation Quistis clearly wanted them to have, but Zell had a feeling that the subject wasn't dropped quite yet. It would just be a matter of when and where she'd bring it up again. "We probably shouldn't loiter around here like this," he said after a few moments.

"Right, right," Quistis nodded in agreement. "And I've got to…" she trailed off, holding up her stack of books as if that said it all. Then, unexpectedly, she began to laugh. "What a strange morning it's been," she said.

"Next the rumor going around is going to be that you and me are seeing each other," Zell remarked casually - mostly joking, but he wouldn't be surprised if it happened; sillier rumors had been known to fly around Garden with less proof before.

"Well, I can deal with that."

Zell hesitated before speaking again. Quistis was fidgeting with her papers, waiting for him to say something; she was not going to let this conversation go without some kind of closure. "We should probably… finish talking about this some other time," Zell proposed, hoping she'd take it for the peace offering it really was. To his relief, she smiled and nodded.

"I agree. We should… pick this up later. When we're both more… free," she said, which Zell interpreted as meaning more free to talk about certain things. Not that that time would ever really come for him, considering his circumstances; he highly doubted that his relationship with Seifer would ever be something that anyone, from Garden Administration to his own friends, would take with good humor. Even if it weren't for the non-fraternization policies and their both being men, there was just the fact that Seifer was Seifer - a special case in all areas. Zell was aware he was just kicking the can down the road where Quistis was concerned, but what else could he tell her? The truth was out of the question, and he had a keen feeling his face would be getting intimate with her fist if he tried to tell her that he _couldn't_ confide in her with regards to this particular secret.

Quistis was smiling warmly at him now. "I'd really love to meet her," she said, gathering her books and things closely to her and finally leaving, going back down the hall the way she'd come.

"Maybe… someday," he said, mainly to himself as he waved at her retreating form. She went back around the corner, and Zell stood in place for a minute or two, feeling lousy. He really tried not to think about it over the last couple of months, but he couldn't ignore forever the fact that he was lying to Quistis, one of his best friends. If he asked himself if the guilt was a price worth paying for maintaining his relationship with Seifer, the answer was a resounding yes - he'd never been so happy and comfortable with someone as he found himself being with Seifer. But the easy contentment of everything was still rankled by unease, and the thought of what was going to happen when the truth finally came out.

Still, Quistis had been lying to him for nearly three years now, so it really took some guts for her to be offended by his secret-keeping, which was tiny in comparison. Justifying things that way made Zell feel a little bit better. But not too much.


End file.
